Healing
by ThePotterDoctor
Summary: Clara Oswald is finally healing and has never been better. She has a great job, a loving boyfriend and everything is falling into place. But her friends aren't all so lucky and as marriages rock, friends fall apart and old friends reappear, the Doctor and Clara's relationship faces some of its greatest tests yet. Can they keep it together? AU SEQUEL TO DAMAGED, SET 5 YEARS ON.
1. Chapter 1: Announcement

***Guess who's back? Back again? The Potter Doctor is back. Tell a friend. Yes, hello one and all and welcome to Healing, the sequel to Damaged. So a lot has happened for our characters in the time that I've been away and they're all in very different places. I really hope that you guys enjoy this chapter, in which we'll see new perspectives, the Doctor doing something he did in the Christmas Special and a character getting punched in the face. It's going to be a rollercoaster alright. The deal is the same as Damaged, should be one chapter every day, I've finished 8 chapters so I have a decent headstart. As ever, thank you so much for reading and please please review and let me know what you think. It's good to be back. TPD***

**P.S I don't own Doctor Who, any of the characters except Henry, Annabelle and Mandy, or any of the books, plays or whatever that are mentioned in this story.**

* * *

Henry Bloom had English first lesson of the morning on Tuesdays. Tuesday was Henry's least favourite day, as he had double history after lunch with Mr Dickhead. But, luckily, English was Henry's favourite class. Henry loved books, always had and the ability to study them at length was all he'd ever wanted. So when he'd gotten an A* at GCSE and told he could continue at A-level, he'd been thrilled. His English teacher at GCSE had been amazing. Mr Kemp had been fantastic, he knew all there was to know about books and his enthusiasm was unrivalled. So Henry had been gutted when he'd been told that he was getting the new English teacher for A-level. But, unbelievably, he ended up liking his new teacher even better than Mr Kemp.

His initial impression had been sceptical. She was new and young, only 24 or 25 by the looks of her. She had chocolate brown eyes and was very short. Her flowing brown hair just tickled her shoulders and was just tinged with honey and ginger, remnants of dying her hair blonde and red at university she informed him when he asked. When she leaned in, she smelled of strawberries and Henry hated strawberries. So he wasn't looking forward to it. She was nervous and shy and none of this filled him with courage. But once she started talking, Henry let his scepticism melt away. She knew books. She knew books better than she knew herself, Henry sensed. The passion in her voice filled him with joy and belief and he found himself locked on her every word. Miss Oswald knew her shit.

It was two weeks before they started talking properly. The class was only eight of them, so Miss Oswald knew everyone's names, but it took her a couple of weeks to clock that Henry was almost as into books as she was. When he had asked her for a recommendation, she had supplied it and it became a tradition for him to hang back after class and discuss his thoughts on the books. Occasionally, he'd come in at break time and they'd sit and discuss a book. She'd make him tea and they'd chat. He got to know her a bit better. She had become a teacher, he'd learned, quite by chance. She had had no idea what to do with her English degree until a friend of hers had told her that she'd make a great teacher. Then, Henry learned, that friend had died and Miss Oswald had decided that becoming a teacher was the best way to honour his memory.

He first saw the Doctor around Christmas time. They were discussing a book over lunchtime and he was nibbling on his sandwiches when there was a knock on her classroom door. The man was strange, Henry had decided, with a green tweed coat and suspenders, with a bright red bow tie and crazy hair. But Miss Oswald had lit up the second he had entered, throwing herself into his arms with a passionate kiss before remembering exactly where she was and calming down. She had apparently told her boyfriend about Henry, because he recognised the name. Henry blushed when the Doctor said that Henry was Clara's favourite student and Henry had replied that Miss Oswald was his favourite teacher.

One day early in June, Miss Oswald was even more cheerful than ever and Henry was intrigued by it. He'd never seen her eyes shine so brightly or her smile so wide. He had a free period after their lesson, as he always did, so he approached Miss Oswald, who smiled at him when she realised he was making for her and kicked the chair opposite her desk for him to sit into.

"Hello Henry," she greeted. "How're you getting on with Mockingjay?"

"I've nearly finished it Miss Oswald," he replied with a smile. "It's a great book."

"For the millionth time," she laughed. "Call me Clara. You're only 8 years younger than me. You're almost an adult for crying out loud."

Calling teachers by their first names was too weird for Henry. It was then that he spied it and his eyes bulged. She must've realised that he'd noticed it because she allowed herself a shy smile. She twisted her ring nervously and put a finger to her lips.

"Nobody else has spotted it yet," she said conspiratorially. "None of the teachers or any pupils. You're very observant Henry."

"That diamond is huge!" he hissed. "How did nobody notice? Is that the Doctor? Are you two…"

"Yep!" Miss Oswald beamed and leapt out of her chair, swirling to face the board. She was wearing a swirly dress and it whipped around her. "He proposed on Saturday. We're getting married Henry! I'm going to get married!" she was squealing, tears streaming down her face and Henry got the impression that she hadn't told anyone yet. "Nobody knows, except his best friend Amy. She helped him pick out the ring. And of course, her husband Rory knew already when I called him to gush. But oh my goodness, I'm so excited. I've been waiting months, even longer for him to ask."

"Congratulations Miss!" Henry laughed and she turned back to face him, tears running down her face. He hadn't even felt his heart break, but there it was. "You two must really be in love." He'd known that from the moment he'd seen the Doctor. He hated the man in that moment.

"Oh we are," Miss Oswald grinned. "We really are."

* * *

Clara couldn't wait to tell Annabelle. Of all of their close friends, Annabelle had known both Clara and the Doctor the longest and she had stuck through hell with them. Clara was meeting her for lunch the next day to tell her. But first, they had to tell her father. That evening, they were off to a family dinner to celebrate her dad's five year anniversary of his wedding to Mandy. The Maitlands and lots of other close family friends would be there, so it was the perfect time to announce it to that aspect of their lives. The Doctor had suggested that they might be ruining a big day. Clara had pointed out that her father had announced his engagement on her birthday and this was adequate payback.

They were also having a few friends over at the weekend, and that was when they'd announce it properly. Jack, Strax, Annabelle, Amy and Rory of course, (although they already knew) Vastra and Jenny and then finally, Ten with his fiancée Martha. Jack Harkness was American and had met the Doctor on a trip to America five years earlier. He was a complete flirt and completely shameless but Clara found him brilliantly charming from the moment that they met. Vastra and Jenny and Strax had all worked with the Doctor when he was working at the company and had become his own private team when he had moved in with Clara to work. It frightened Clara sometimes that her boyfriend (now fiancé) ran a multi-billion pound business out of their apartment, with just three people to help him and Jack to provide American Intel. She had learned that Vastra and Jenny were married and had been for a long time, they'd just done well to hide it in case company higher-ups didn't approve. The Doctor couldn't have cared less.

Annabelle had been friends with Clara since university and she lived alone not far from them, although in a slightly run-down part of town. She was an aspiring author who was struggling a bit, despite the fact that her first book had hit the bestsellers lists. Ten was the Doctor's cousin and they had gotten a lot closer over the last five years, since Ten had come to work for the Doctor at his company, head of the now astronomical Sonic Screwdriver Project. Martha Jones was a medical student, was just finishing her training and they had met back at uni. Ten had proposed the previous year and Clara couldn't wait for the wedding, which was in September.

Amy and Rory, affectionately known as the Ponds, had married almost straight out of university. Rory was a nurse and Amy a model and it was a match made in heaven. Clara had met Amy back in Amy's first year, Clara's second year. They hadn't really hit it off too much but when Amy met the Doctor, it was as if they became best friends overnight. Clara found herself getting on very well with Rory, Amy's now husband. They had a lot in common and often ended up going for coffee (or tea in Clara's case). Rory was a great guy and it was interesting for Clara to see how the Doctor explained things Amy had told him compared to how Rory saw things. Naturally, they tended to see things differently.

* * *

Clara hated letting the Doctor drive. She much preferred when she was behind the wheel as he tended to be either way too violent or way too slow. Clara usually ended up having to encourage him to speed up, followed a few minutes later by screaming the word: 'Brakes!' over and over again, causing him to shoot her an annoyed look and mutter irritatedly about making up her bloody mind. Clara wanted to hit him when he was driving. Yet, if he drove, then she could have the extra glass of wine that her dress and her engagement ring warranted. And Clara did want that extra glass of wine. Her ring was utterly gorgeous. The Doctor claimed it was a 32 carat diamond and Clara had been blown away by how big the rock inside it was. It was fairly simple, not flashy but Clara was mesmerised by its beauty. It fitted perfectly and she wanted to cry every single time that she looked at it. It sat next to her mum's old ring, both of which she played with nervously as they raced up the M6. Clara squealed at the Doctor's swerving and she swore loudly at him, which earned her an incredulous look. Obviously, he thought his own driving was better than it was. Every time she called him up on it, she was promptly told that he had never crashed. Clara replied every time that the way he drove, it would only take one crash.

They reached the hotel with plenty of time to spare and the Doctor chastised Clara on her back street driving and she held back the urge to punch him. He smiled at her as they walked in hand in hand and she glared at him.

"What?" he asked, forlorn.

"I told you to stop smiling at me," she replied. "It just accentuates the fact that your ears look like fucking rocket fins with that ridiculous buzz cut."

A few weeks previously, Clara had returned home from work to find her boyfriend sat on their bed, his head completely shaved bald. She screamed. A lot. She'd nearly had a heart attack. He'd told her that he'd got bored and offered to shave hers so they matched, holding an electric razor and some shaving cream ominously. Clara had offered to bash his skull in if he came within five feet of her. She refused to sleep with him unless he wore a hat. Once some of his hair had grown back, Clara had to admit that he looked hot with short hair, but the shaved head had made her want to vomit and she still hadn't entirely forgiven him for it and told him that the next time he got bored, she'd send him a picture from her reserve.

They entered the building and sat in the hotel bar, stocking up on wine in Clara's case and lemonade in the Doctor's. Clara was halfway through her second drink when her dad arrived and she pulled him into a huge hug. She reluctantly hugged Mandy who was smiling cheerfully. The Doctor gave Dave a firm handshake and Mandy pulled him into a huge hug. Clara was wearing a set of gloves, so that nobody would see her ring before she had a chance to announce it. Her dad looked different, his facial expression was all wrong and she couldn't quite pin it down.

"It's good to see you Clara," her father said cheerfully. "It's been way too long. You look positively majestic; I've never seen you so happy."

There was an obvious reason for that. Clara had never been happy. She had amazing friends, a great job and the best fiancé that the world could ask for.

"Thanks Dad," she beamed. "I have some big news; I was going to announce it over dinner."

"Actually sweetie," there was an odd tone in her father's voice. "Me too. Tell me later Sweetpea, I've got to go and talk to the other guests. We sit down in twenty."

Clara and the Doctor mingled for a while, weaving in and out, looking for people that Clara knew well and chatting with them. She found the Maitlands and could barely contain herself from babbling, having to resist the urge to play with her rings. It wouldn't look suspicious, they both knew of her tendency to do it and her mother's ring was on the same finger as her mum's engagement ring. Even so, Clara was on edge and Angie spent a good ten minutes mocking the Doctor's ears and hair. Even Artie threw in a jibe or two. Clara hated the fact that they were so old, they were still kids in her view. But no, Angie was 19 and Artie 16 and it was all a bit too weird for Clara. George Maitland had aged visibly in the last five years, the loss of his wife was still evidently taking a huge toll on his life. Clara felt bad for him. She knew what losing family was like and to be here, to celebrate a close friend who had been in a similar position having moved on must've hurt him. Clara wished her gran was still alive to see it, but she had passed on a few years ago. Clara had known it was coming and it had been peaceful, so it wasn't a violent shock, but she still missed her.

They eventually sat down for dinner and conversation rattled on before Dave stood up to make an announcement. He cleared his throat and Clara could feel excitement rushing through her. As soon as her dad was finished, she could tell the world that she was going to marry the most perfect man ever.

"Thank you all for being here," Dave said with a smile and received a chinking of glasses in response. "I'm glad to see a good set of familiar faces. Mandy and I have been together for five years and they've been good to us. But alas, no more." Well Clara hadn't been expecting that. She shot the Doctor a wide-eyed look and he shrugged in response. Murmurs had kicked up around the table. "Mandy and I are breaking up. We're getting a divorce." The Doctor yelped in pain as Clara's hand had tightened, crushing his arm underneath it. "I know this may come as a shock to a lot of you, but whilst Mandy and I have been good to each other, we both know it was a marriage that couldn't last forever. We helped each other through some rough times, but we are fundamentally different people." Clara was kicking the Doctor repeatedly under the table now and it was taking everything he had not to yell as she supressed her happiness. She bit her lip and tried to pull a sad face, but failed miserably. "We thank you all for supporting us throughout and we wanted you all to know that there are no hard feelings between us."

Clara squealed and stamped so hard on the Doctor's foot that he yelled this time. Everyone looked at him and he smiled awkwardly as a slightly tipsy Clara stared into his eyes, trying to transmit all her happiness to him. He had felt her happiness perfectly well in his foot. Uproar had kicked off up and down the table as people rushed to interrogate Dave and Mandy. Stuart, who was by Dave's side, was quiet and Clara sensed he'd known about this for a while. Clara was close to her father and she stood up to talk to him as he flitted through the crowd towards her and the Doctor, who was limping slightly.

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner Clara," he apologised, hugging her. "I just couldn't bring myself. Are you okay with it?"

"Yep," Clara said, trying to pull a sad face and sound forlorn but failing miserably and snorting with laughter. "I'm sure I'll pull through somehow."

Dave failed to pick up on her joy and even the Doctor didn't quite realise how any human could be that oblivious. Maybe he was ignoring it. Dave was smiling at Clara now.

"What's your news then sweetheart?" he asked and Clara stumbled. She couldn't tell him now. Not like this. She twisted her new ring and bit her lip but, annoyingly, the Doctor stepped in before she had a chance to cut him down.

"We're engaged!" he said loudly and cheerfully and everyone stopped talking to stare at them. And then Dave dropped his wine glass and punched the Doctor in the face.

* * *

"Well, all in all," the Doctor said cheerfully as they settled into bed in the hotel. "I don't think it was a bad night."

Clara winced and pressed the ice pack to his black eye. It was horrible and ugly to look at and she was livid with her father. It had taken Dave a few seconds to realise what he'd done and apologise profusely over and over again, picking the Doctor up off the floor and guiding him to a chair. Clara had screamed herself hoarse at her father about how she was an adult in a long term committed relationship who'd been waiting for him to pop the question for months and after a few minutes of having his daughter publically humiliate and scold him, Dave had paid for a room for them for the evening, insisting that the Doctor was in no state to drive them home. Clara had raved a little more to anyone who would listen and then she had Angie throw herself at her and gush about how happy she was for them. The Doctor had received apologies, thanks and words of warning from Clara's friends and family and it had all been a very surreal experience. There was a knock on the hotel door and Clara answered it, glaring at her father and slamming it in his face. He stopped the door with his foot and looked pleadingly at her.

"Clara, can I just talk to the Doctor?" Dave asked.

"It's okay Clara," the Doctor said, slightly quieter than usual but still cheerful. "I don't mind at all."

Clara watched nervously as the Doctor followed Dave out of the room. The Doctor was fairly sure that she was listening at the door but it didn't matter because Dave was taking him away from the room, to ensure Clara didn't hear. It turned out that he knew his daughter almost as well as the Doctor did.

"First of all, I wanted to apologise for the eye again," Dave winced. "You have to understand. Clara is the only person in the world that I love and the only person I have left. My gut reaction is to protect her to my last breath. I keep forgetting that she's 25 and that she's been with you for over five years and that it's about time you started a family. And I trust you Doctor, I really do. And Clara loves you more than anything, certainly more than she loves me." The Doctor winced at this. "Listen to me Doctor," Dave pleaded. "I love Clara so much and I cannot stand to see her hurt. So if you hurt her, I will kill you. But I know you won't. Because you love her and I won't be around forever. So Doctor, protect my daughter. Love my daughter. And there's something I want you to know. I know tonight I might have seemed heartless, but the truth is, I don't want Clara to know…"

"Know what?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"I don't want her to know that I'm still in love with her mother and that's part of the reason that Mandy and I broke up. Another part is Clara. I've been stupid not to see it but Clara has never liked Mandy and I can't keep watching my daughter hate who I'm becoming just because I've found someone new. Clara should come first and it took me too long wallowing in my grief to realise that. I'm sorry Doctor. I've been a bad father."

"No you haven't," the Doctor replied instantly but Dave shook his head.

"I'm ashamed of myself Doctor. She suffered until she met you and I missed it. She was drinking, sneaking out and I just let it happen. Because I was so lost, I didn't care. I could have lost Clara forever Doctor. I won't let that happen again."


	2. Chapter 2: Proposal

***Hey everyone! Chapter 2 time! As you can guess from the title, I wanted to revisit the proposal, because I didn't simply want to skip over it. I also want to hint at things to come, specifically with Annabelle. I want to drag her character through the ringer and that starts here. The response to Healing so far has been overwhelmingly positive and I want to thank everyone who has already dedicated themselves to this story, with all the follows, favourites and reviews that have been coming in but thanks to anyone who is just reading it. Please keep reviewing, I value all of your input. Speak soon. The Potter Doctor***

* * *

"Holy crap!" Annabelle gasped, pouring over Clara's hand. "Look at the size of that fucking rock! Clara Oswald, he has well and truly outdone himself here."

"I know right," Clara beamed, examining her ring once again herself. Clara loved it so much she just wanted to look at it all day long. "He did an ace job."

"How was the proposal?" Annabelle gushed. "Oh my God, I bet it was so fucking romantic and everything?"

"It was incredible," Clara replied. "Truly. Anyway, now you know and we're going properly public on Friday night. You'd better make it Annabelle, everyone's going to be there. Ten's bringing Martha, the Ponds are going to be there, not to mention Jack and the Doctor's little work crew."

Annabelle was smiling but Clara could see right through it. Clara was engaged, Ten and Martha were engaged. The Ponds had been married for what seemed like forever and even Vastra and Jenny had tied the knot. Annabelle hadn't had a relationship for two years and what little action she got normally made her regret more than anything else. Clara felt pangs of sympathy for Annabelle. She was lonely. Annabelle's eyes had clouded over for a moment and then she returned her attention to the ring.

"Duh!" Annabelle grinned. "Of course I'll be there," but her heart wasn't in it and Clara rubbed her friend's shoulder affectionately. "Did you tell them?" The tone of her voice told Clara exactly who Annabelle was referring to.

"I visited Tom on Sunday," Clara replied quietly. "I told him and showed him the ring. I like to think he appreciated that I went to see him and tell him in person." She still missed him so much. The Doctor had gone with her to visit her and Clara wanted more than almost anything for him to see what his sacrifice had given her. There was only one person she wanted to be around more. "We were in Blackpool for my dad's anniversary do last night, so we got up early this morning to see mum nice and early before we drove back. Luckily I had a free morning."

"That explains it," Annabelle murmured and Clara shot her an odd look. "You've been crying," Annabelle explained and Clara smiled wistfully. The day she could visit her mum without crying was the day that she gave up hope. The day she lost faith in herself.

"How was your dad's thing?" Annabelle asked, trying to uplift the conversation and this earned her a snort from Clara.

"They're getting divorced!" Clara laughed and Annabelle paused for a moment to shoot her an incredulous look, before laughing along with her and for a while, neither of them were able to stop.

* * *

_Clara was woken by the smell of frying bacon and she took a great big, long sniff, inhaling the beautiful smell. It was mixed with something else, she realised and took another long, engulfing breath. Pancakes. Bacon pancakes. Her favourite. He was really spoiling her this morning. There was already a mug of tea waiting for her as she padded into their spacious living room. The kitchen was attached by a counter and the Doctor was in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with one hand and frying bacon with the other. He was the clumsiest person that Clara had ever met, yet he still managed to cook with complete precision. He was a marvel. And he was her marvel. Clara sipped her tea as he joined her, two plates piled high with bacon pancakes. Clara licked her lips and kissed him, a long slow kiss that lasted as long as she could make it before the temptation to dive into her breakfast kicked in and she started shovelling bacon and batter into her mouth, savouring the taste of heaven. _

_"I wuv wou!" she said, her mouth full and the Doctor pulled a face before rolling his eyes and tucking in himself. "What's the occasion?" Clara asked suspiciously as she swallowed and the Doctor raised his eyebrows unconvincingly. He was up to something, she knew it. He was terrible at lying to her. _

_"Nothing," he insisted, but Clara wasn't buying it. "I was just thinking we can have a lazy day, just like we used to. Disney films, takeaway and we can stay on this sofa all day. Drag the blankets through, settle in front of the TV and devour five cheese and meat feast pizzas. What do you say?"_

_"It sounds perfect," Clara giggled. "All three Toy Story's, followed by Tangled, Frozen and Finding Nemo to finish off?"_

_"That sounds magical," the Doctor replied. "I've already got them lined up in order."_

_He was too good, Clara smirked as she went to fetch the duvets while he popped in Toy Story. They snuggled up, intertwined as the film kicked off, still devouring their bacon pancakes and sipping on tea. At some point, their hands had locked and Clara found herself fully of bacon, lying against the Doctor and all was well with the world. Every time he kissed the top of her forehead, or fondly played with her hair, she felt like the luckiest woman in the world, her entire world span and she found herself unable to remove him from her thoughts. _

_They made it until the end of Toy Story III before lust took over and they had to stop for a break. The Doctor ordered all the fried chicken in the world for a late lunch and they were starving and worn out when it arrived, so they devoured it all and then picked the bones clean before settling back down to watch Tangled. By the time they reached Finding Nemo, Clara was upset, because once Finding Nemo was over, that would be the end of the day and they'd have to stop. The Doctor ordered pizza, which would arrive halfway through the film and they cracked open a bottle of wine. So, just like the good old days, they snuggled up under the covers and watched their favourite film with wine, pizza and most importantly, each other. It had been the perfect day and as the film finished, Clara turned sadly to look at the Doctor. _

_"Now what?" she asked, almost sadly, but too elated to be truly upset. _

_"Now, I need to ask you something important," the Doctor informed her, before reaching down the back of the sofa. Clara raised an eyebrow. She'd been on edge whenever he asked her questions like that for months, but she'd long since given up trying to convince herself that he would propose. It was normally whenever he asked her to a fancy restaurant that she freaked out now. But when the Doctor pulled out a small, blue box and had slipped off of the sofa, sinking to one knee, that Clara let out a scream of delight, tears rushing down her cheeks. She was sobbing, unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone express them in word format. The Doctor was saying the words she'd been dreaming he'd say, his face the most beautiful thing in the universe. She was so transfixed on his face, so transfixed on his words, that she hadn't even glanced at the ring._

_And then her eyes fell onto it and suddenly there were two most beautiful things in the universe. She was sat, eyes glued to the most beautiful diamond ring that she had ever seen in her entire life. His hand was quivering and she managed to tear her eyes off of the ring long enough to back at his face, the other most beautiful thing in the universe. And the word yes tumbled out of her mouth. It was the only thing she had been thinking since the moment she'd seen the box, even before that. She'd pictured him proposing many times. Every single time, it had been more spectacular, more bombastic. She had expected literal fireworks, maybe a horse-drawn carriage. She had been terrified of what wicked scheme the Doctor would come up with. In truth, this was so much more than she could have possibly hoped for. The Doctor was a spectacular person, that much was true, but he was also intimate and the best moments of their relationship had also been those intimate ones. And today had been intimate. It had been loving and tender and everything that Clara could ever have asked for from a life with the Doctor. So the fact that he had proposed at the end of it was perfect. She couldn't think of a more fitting proposal. This had eclipsed all her vivid ideas._

_"Oh my God," she gasped eventually, before falling into the Doctor's arms and kissing him for so long and so hard, that she found it impossible to imagine herself ever doing anything else for the rest of her life. _

* * *

Henry came to see Clara on Friday to tell her that he'd started on her latest recommendation. Clara liked Henry, he was a very bright young man and she was more than happy to recommend books to him, talk with him about his general life and how he was getting on and help him decide on universities. In turn, she let him into her life a little. He'd met the Doctor a few times, when he'd pitched out of the blue, as he often did, to take her for lunch because he was bored or to drop off something she'd left behind. She was happy to talk to Henry about her life and past, mainly because there was nothing that was really ashamed of anymore. She left some of the gorier details of her and the Doctor's university exploits out of it (being burned alive, nearly raped and having him almost kill himself were the main absentees) but her life had shaped who she was and she was happy. When she'd first met the Doctor, she had been damaged beyond repair. But now, she was healing.

So when Henry asked her about why she'd become a teacher, she had been frank and honest. She'd told him that she lost someone, a very good friend. Probably her best friend. And he'd told her that she would make an amazing teacher and that drove Clara on. Of course, he had been right. Tom had always been right about her. Whether it was what particular tea she'd pick, what hair colour suited her best or what career she should go into. Even from beyond the grave, she could imagine the smug grin on his face when he realised she had gone into teaching.

Henry looked upset that Friday so Clara stretched out. She knew that Henry would be likely to tell her than any other staff member and, more than that, she felt a personal level of empathy and worry for the boy. Clara was a naturally empathetic person, something she had always fought. Now, being a teacher, it fitted her instincts perfectly. But when she had asked Henry what was wrong, his response shocked her.

"Miss Oswald, I think I'm falling in love with you."

Well that was not good. That was about as far away from good as Clara could possibly have hoped for. She stammered for a moment and Henry looked forlornly at her. Clara took a deep breath and paced for a moment. She was in shit. Deep shit. If anyone found out about this… She kicked herself mentally. Henry was probably losing his mind over this, the poor kid. She sat down facing him and took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry!" Henry blurted. "I mean, at first I just thought you were an amazing teacher, because well let's face it, you are. But it ended up being more than that. You're young, you're beautiful and you have such an intimate knowledge of so many books…"

"Henry," Clara took yet another deep breath but she didn't feel any calmer. "I'm engaged. And I love the Doctor more than anything. I'm sorry if I did anything to make you feel…"

"No," Henry said suddenly, shaking his head and Clara felt relief rush through her. "Let's not mistake each other here Miss Oswald. This is a schoolboy crush, which you didn't do anything to encourage. I mean, I didn't even realise it was happening. But I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces when I saw the ring. You didn't do anything wrong and I don't want you to get into trouble. I just wanted to let you know that it happened and that I won't be coming to you outside of teaching hours anymore. It's not appropriate and I need to find someone my own age."

Clara felt more sighs of relief escape her. That was a potentially disastrous situation avoided. The last thing she needed was an inquiry. She was a young and attractive teacher; the second people started asking questions, her head would be on a chopping block. She needed a glass of water and Henry was still looking at her.

"I'm still here if you need to talk about anything," Clara said carefully, choosing her words. "I agree that it wouldn't be appropriate for me to talk to you outside of lessons unless you have a genuine problem with work, in which case you can always come to me. And I'm still here for UCAS and stuff. But we can't keep regularly meeting at lunchtimes or questions will be asked, especially if people learn of your feelings for me. I should really tell my boss, but I'm not going to," Clara added and Henry breathed a sigh of relief. "You're a teenager and the last thing you need is rumours shooting around the school. When I was your age, I was a state. If you need to talk about anything, I am here, but I'd recommend just finding someone your own age. Love is a fickle thing Henry, believe me, I know. I thought I was in love once, and it was a terrible mistake." Jessie. Clara shuddered at the thought. He smiled tearfully at her.

"Have a good evening Miss," he said. "I'm sure your friends will be so happy to hear you're engaged. If I could just ask, how did he do it?"

"Over pizza and Finding Nemo," Clara replied with a smile. She caught herself. Henry was the first person she'd told the exact circumstances to. Henry smiled at this and then he was gone. Clara turned back to the blackboard. She'd been stupid not to notice earlier. Despite what she told Henry, she did tell her supervisor, terrified that if she didn't, she could lose her job. Her supervisor smiled and laughed when Clara told her, explaining that this sort of thing happened every now and then and as long as they only ever met in the classroom, which had CCTV, then Clara would have no problems at all. She also promised that nobody else needed to know unless the situation changed. Clara was relieved. That was a load off of her mind.

That evening was incredible. The Ponds already knew of course but they still pretended to be surprised and Rory almost choking on his food as he went way too far to pretend was the highlight of Clara's evening, once Jack had slapped Rory on the back so hard that Rory almost choked up his whole meal. It was good to see David, affectionately known as Ten, as Clara had a good relationship with the Doctor's cousin. Martha was sporting her own engagement ring and Clara felt a bit guilty when Martha compared them, as hers was about half the size. Ten had muttered something about his cousin being a show off and Clara had laughed at that.

Annabelle showed up, but she was late, her dirty blonde hair was unkempt and she barely smiled the whole time. Clara had known her friend was having a hard time, but was it worse than she had suspected? After a few glasses of wine, however, Annabelle was back to her usual bubbly self and the evening carried on raucously. Jack flirted with everyone in the room, despite the fact that only Annabelle and Strax were single. Even Clara found herself blushing, as she always did when Jack kissed her hand and shot her a devilish wink. The fact that he did almost the exact same manoeuvre on her new fiancé made her feel both better and less special. Jack had that effect on, well, everyone.

As the evening drifted to an end and the Doctor offered people their spare room and sofas, only Jack and Annabelle ended up staying the night. They shared the guest bedroom and Clara had a strong suspicion that Jack was going to spend the night fending off a very drunken blonde. Assuming he wanted to of course, but the Doctor had told Clara not to worry, Jack was more sensible than that.

When Clara interrogated Annabelle the next morning, she was relieved to hear that nothing happened, although Jack insisted that Annabelle was all over her, in his most playful tone that made it clear that nothing could have been further from the truth. Jack got on his way quickly the next morning, as he had business to attend to, but Annabelle, who was struggling her way through her second novel, stayed for breakfast. When she eventually left, Clara's anxiety for her friend was only partly satiated.

"Well, the soon to be Mr Oswald," she teased. "What now?"

"Well the soon to be Mrs Doctor," he replied. "We have the rest of our lives to work it out."


	3. Chapter 3: Impossible Promises

***Hey guys, bit late on the ball today but here we are, again. I've had some great responses to the first two chapters so as ever, thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favourited, reviewed and read, please keep on doing so, your feedback means the world to me. This chapter is going to introduce a few new strands, as well as a fan favourite and sees the return of a character who left during Damaged and is going to mix things up a bit, so I hope you enjoy it! See you tomorrow! The Potter Doctor***

* * *

Clara loved holidays. It was the end of July and school had finished at long last. She lay in bed for what seemed like an age, fully aware of the fact that she had no reason whatsoever to get up. It was a glorious feeling, knowing that she had six weeks of lie-ins ahead of her, even though she did have quite a bit of work to do over the holidays. The Doctor nuzzled against her neck with his chin and she let out a giggle. He shot her a sleepy smile and ran a trail of kisses up her neck to her earlobe. Clara held back a shudder as he nibbled on it and shifted ever so slightly closer to him. She leaned up and kissed his lips and then his arms were around her again and they snuggled.

"What time are you meeting Ten?" the Doctor asked her shoulder, his voice muffled by her flesh. "Or was it Annabelle first?"

"I'm meeting Annabelle at that adorable little tea shop we went to the other week," Clara clarified. "That's at 1pm, followed by a late lunch with David at 2:30 at Papa's. Did you get that proposal finished?" she asked in her teacher's voice, hoping to make the Doctor feel like a naughty child and judging by his reaction, she'd succeeded. She'd known he'd not got it done, she was just making him say it. "It has to be done by 6."

"I'm aware," he said through slightly gritted teeth. "It'll only take me 6 or 7 hours, what time is it now?"

"About half 11," Clara replied with a smirk and he swore, leaping out of bed and throwing open the bedroom door, gunning for his study. Clara snorted and pulled herself back under the covers, counting down from five in her head. When she hit zero, he staggered back into the bedroom, looking decidedly unamused as Clara held back her laughter.

"Very funny," he grumbled, climbing back into bed. "It's not even 9."

Clara's giggling was cut short as he rolled on top of her, pinning her underneath him and she squealed as he dived for ribcage, an onslaught of tickling occurring as Clara screamed until she could barely breathe, her ribs caving under the tickles. She swore at the Doctor as he eventually showed mercy and rolled off of her, Clara's breathing heavy and ragged as if he'd been doing more than just tickling her. She flicked his ear affectionately and he laughed, a beautiful sound that Clara still loved to hear. She pulled the covers over her naked body and smiled at the Doctor, as he put his arms around her again.

Eventually, they had to get up and face the world. Clara had friends to meet and exam papers to mark and the Doctor had a proposal to finish before that evening. They showered as quickly as they could, which still took far longer than necessary and then they dressed in a similar fashion. Clara loved the little home that she shared with the Doctor. It felt like love, all the rooms painted with a red hue, except the bathrooms which the Doctor demanded were painted blue. The living room was huge, with four sofas, a giant television and every console the Doctor could get his hands on. The kitchen was conjoined, with a giant table inside and plenty of room to manoeuvre. There was a downstairs toilet and then upstairs, were the bedrooms and the Doctor's study. Clara and the Doctor had an en-suite bathroom attached to their massive love-nest, as the Doctor called it. There was also another bathroom which wasn't attached to the spare room, which always made Clara nervous she'd stumble into someone showering when they stayed over. The Doctor pointed out that that had always been a problem at uni, but that was a long time ago, Clara stressed.

They lived on the outskirts of London, the school Clara worked out was within walking distance and if the Doctor was ever called into his office it would be less than an hour on the train, although he rarely if ever was. Vastra and Jenny and Strax lived close, within ten minutes and they were over fairly regularly working on something or another. Clara had to remind herself of that now that the holidays had kicked in. On more than one occasion she'd ended up flashing the trio by forgetting it wasn't just her and the Doctor in the house. Vastra and Jenny had tried to avert their eyes quickly, Strax had just looked decidedly unimpressed and not even realised Clara was there half the time.

The little teahouse was called Donna's and was owned by a lovely woman in her 40s named Donna. She had fiery red hair and a wicked sense of humour and she loved bossing around the shop workers, despite her cheery nature and good demeanour. Clara met Annabelle just after 1, and the other girl was looking worse for wear. Clara held a hand to her face and shot her a quick look up and down.

"Have you been eating properly?" Clara asked quietly, her face deadly serious as she stared at Annabelle. All the cheeriness had gone from Annabelle's face and she was stirring her tea for far longer than was necessary, staring at it as if her future was sitting among the murky brown liquid. It was several moments before she spoke and Clara had been about to try and different tact.

"I've not really had the money," Annabelle said, trying not to sound pitiful. "Rent's getting a bit tight, so I've been living off Pot Noodle for a couple of weeks now. The royalties are still coming in from the first book but I really need to get this next book finished. The publisher wants it by the end of August or…"

"Or they'll terminate the contract," Clara finished, unable to keep the worry out of her voice. Annabelle shot her a look to confirm the bad news. Clara bit her lip. Annabelle was still stirring her tea, and her other fist was clenched. "Well how close are you?" Clara asked hopefully, knowing that the answer wasn't going to be a good one.

Annabelle made a noise somewhere between a snort of laughter and a strangled cry of anguish. Clara put on her most sympathetic teaching face and shifted around the table so that she could slip an arm around her friend. Annabelle was trying hard not to cry but Clara knew she was in a bad way.

"You can come and stay with us you know," Clara told her, not even bothering to consult the Doctor as she knew that he would be okay with it. "If the rent situation becomes an issue, as long as you want. Or I can lend you some money for food or…"

Annabelle was shaking her head. "I don't want to be indebted to you Clara," she sighed. "I've already asked my parents if I can borrow some money so hopefully that will come through in a couple of days. I just need to get this damned book finished and then try to find another publisher before the royalty money slows to a trickle. Nobody's going to be buying my book Clara; it's been almost a year…"

Clara didn't know what to say, didn't know what she could say. Annabelle's life was falling apart at the seams and Clara was witnessing it before her eyes and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. She had forgotten that away from her perfect job and her perfect Doctor, the world wasn't giving everyone what they deserved and Annabelle was alone, broke and short on ideas.

"Annabelle," Clara bit her lip. Her friend wasn't going to accept her money and she wasn't going to stay with them. Clara didn't know what to do. "Look, why don't you try getting a job somewhere? You have an English degree, there must be publishing houses and the like that need someone like that? Just until you're back on your feet and can get the book finished…"

"Clara," Annabelle shook her head again, more limply this time. "As it is, it'll take me weeks to finish the book. Weeks. And that's dedicating all of my time to it. I barely sleep anymore. I have to try and get it done before the end of next month. But if I don't, then getting a job just means putting it on the backburner and then what? I spend the rest of my life wishing I'd gone through that extra couple of months of hell to get what I really wanted. Clara, I can do this. But I just need to earn it. This will be the book that gets me going, the book where I hit big. I mean my first book was good and it got me into a great place but the recognition starts now."

Clara couldn't help but worry that Annabelle was delirious. Her insistence that everything would be fine was both reassuring and oddly disconcerting. Clara didn't want her friend to lose her house or her contract and the idea of her living off Pot Noodle made Clara feel ill for her. She had to try and do something for Annabelle but she didn't know what there was to be done. Annabelle had managed a watery smile and stared at Clara, their eyes meeting properly for the first time.

"I'll be okay Clara," she said and Clara did not believe her for a second. "I promise."

* * *

Clara was still feeling more than slightly uneasy about her meeting with Annabelle and resolved to go round with a care package of sorts the next day and refuse to let Annabelle turn her down. She texted the Doctor, explaining to him the situation and saying that she was on her way to meet Ten. He didn't reply straight away, which was odd for him but he did eventually, when she was just outside the restaurant. His reply was hurried and he informed her that the proposal was going badly and that he'd talk to her later when he got the chance. Clara felt a tad guilty for texting him in the first place but it was his own stupid fault for leaving the proposal so damned late in the first place. He never learned. She spotted the brown trench coat before anything else, as was so often the case with the Doctor's cousin. David 'Ten' Smith had wild hair, a big smile and an even bigger heart. His fashion sense rivalled that of his cousin, with a brown pinstriped suit his preferred choice, a dark lie hanging limply around his neck. Clara and Ten had gotten on well since they met at university and had started hanging out fairly regularly. It helped that Ten lived nearby to account for his job with the Doctor's office. Clara, knowing Ten, was surprised that he had agreed to work under his cousin, but Ten had shrugged and said he had free reign to do pretty much whatever he wanted and was paid as much as he wanted. His wedding was set for December, as his fiancée Martha had always wanted a Christmas wedding.

"Clara," he called cheerfully, kissing her hand in way of greeting. Clara rolled her eyes. Ten was definitely the charmer in the family. "Still got my cousin on a tight leash?"

"He can't go more than ten feet outside the house without an alarm going off," Clara teased and Ten laughed at that. "Nah, he's working on some proposal for a bio-engineered super drug of some such nature, I don't pay nearly enough attention when he starts garbling at me," she admitted with a breezy laugh. "He has four hours to get it done, so no doubt the house will be an absolute tip when I get back. You know how he gets when he's working."

"Isn't that the reason he has a study?" Ten mused, as they entered the restaurant and sat down, a waiter offering them menus. "So he doesn't wreck the entire house?"

"Yes," Clara replied, gazing down at her menu and nibbling on her lower lip. "But the day he stays in that study is the day I can actually come home to a tidy house. It hasn't happened yet!" she tried not to sound too exasperated. It was part of his endearment. Plus, she always made him clean it up. The fact that they did an even amount of housework implied that she didn't have to kick his arse to make him do his half, but once she pointed out the fact that she was irritated, he usually threw himself into it straight away. He was very good at it once he wanted to be, it just usually didn't occur to him.

"You love him because of that, not in spite of it," Ten sounded amused by his observation and Clara blushed furiously at this as the waiter returned and they ordered. "That's cute."

"You don't feel the same way about Martha?" Clara arched her eyebrow and Ten tried his best not to look phased by this comment. Clara was only teasing, but she wondered if she'd struck a nerve. "Relax David, I'm kidding. Are you two spending enough time together?" For Clara, this was a legitimate concern. With Martha being a med-student and Ten playing the role of a senior partner, she was surprised they had any time alone together. Ten's face said it all and Clara had to refrain from biting her lip.

"We're doing our best," he said carefully, mulling over each word before he said it and Clara swore internally. "I mean we're trying to make an hour a day at least for each other, but we both need sleep and work is so all-consuming and…"

"Ten," Clara cut him off gently. "Things aren't going to change when you get married, you realise that right? You two need to try and find a way to spend more time together or you'll never get around to planning the wedding, let alone enjoy married life. You need to delegate more; we both know that you can. Or tell the Doctor that you want to work from home…"

Ten looked like he was mulling it over but Clara knew what he would say. He would try and find an excuse to get out of making the effort and then he'd say that he and Martha would just have to try harder. Clara was worried about them. Martha was working long hours and Ten's hours barely overlapped with hers. They were constantly tired and their relationship was increasingly becoming one of convenience rather than love. Clara shuddered at the thought. She didn't know what she would do if she and the Doctor fell out of love or stopped having time for each other. The times at university where she barely got to see him were by far the hardest part of their relationship, not least because of all the chaos that intervened at that point. Jessie, Clara's horrific ex had almost ripped them apart and so had River Song, the Doctor's own skeleton in the closet. But since they had left university and Clara had started working her way up the teaching world, getting her teaching qualifications and then spending some time as a TA before finally, less than a year ago, getting her first real teaching job. The entire time, the Doctor had been there, by her side. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for Ten and Martha to be in a relationship where your partner wasn't always your first priority.

"Clara, Martha and I get by, I promise." Ten reassured her and Clara tried her hardest to keep her eyebrow in its regular position. She felt it sliding up her forehead and restrained it. Getting by wasn't enough, Clara thought. But she didn't want to tell David that. He needed to figure out for himself exactly what he wanted. And if Martha was what he truly wanted, he would make the effort to put her first. If he didn't, then he was on for a collision course with trouble and nothing Clara did would fix that.

* * *

Having had what was in truth a thoroughly upsetting afternoon that did at least improve once she and Ten had stopped talking about Martha and started talking about Clara's job and future wedding, Clara headed home to see exactly what carnage the Doctor had inflicted on their perfect little home. When she got in, the lounge was surprisingly not a bombsight. Clara checked her watch. It was only 4:23. He would not have had time to finish his proposal and tidy up after himself, so this meant that he actually avoided making a mess in the first place. Clara was suspicious. He never avoided making a mess. What was he doing?

She called out his name but he didn't respond. Clara moved through the house, throwing her handbag on the sofa, calling his name as she took the stairs two at a time. She threw open the door to his study. It was empty. Clara wasn't entirely surprised but she was still slightly stumped as to exactly where he could have gone. His study didn't look any dirtier than it had been earlier that day when she'd left, which meant that he hadn't been working in there all day. She raised an eyebrow and pulled out her phone.

_Hey, just wanted to check in because I got home and it looks like you've not been in all day. Hope you're alright and the proposal is going well! J xxx_

Looking at it again and hoping she didn't sound too worried, Clara thumbed send. She was more than used to the Doctor's eccentric antics and she wasn't overly worried. She made herself a cup of tea in her favourite mug and settled down to do some marking. It only took a few minutes before her phone was buzzing and she frowned at the response.

_All good here. Be home at 7. I'll make dinner tonight x_

Clara didn't mind the Doctor doing his own thing, she never had. She just found it odd that he hadn't said anything to her about it. He normally told her so much useless facts about his day, like the exact time he made toast for lunch or how many times he'd rebooted his laptop. His dedication to the details of his life was bordering on maddening and it was very out of character for him to pull a disappearing act and be decidedly vague about it. Clara mused over it for a couple of minutes and then returned to marking. Whatever the Doctor was doing, she'd find out soon enough. She wasn't going to get worked up over nothing.

The Doctor came in at exactly 6:58, just as Clara had anticipated. He was usually a couple of minutes early when he said he was going to be somewhere for her. She had noticed the incredible disparity between when he was meeting her and other people. When they went places together, they were always late and she was dragging him along kicking and screaming and whenever he had somewhere to be, she always had to remind him and he was always late, so the fact that he always made it early for her was the biggest compliment he could give her.

He looked upset but Clara couldn't pin down why. She was halfway through eating a biscuit when he walked in and she smiled and waved at him. He didn't bound over to her the way he usually did, but he slumped beside her and wrapped his left arm around her. Clara turned into him and their lips met briefly. Her smile had gone, but he had done his best to make one of his own, a wistful attempt. It looked like he had had about as good a day as she had.

"The proposal?" she asked, stroking his arm gently. He waved it away as if it was nothing.

"I got that in in time, no need to worry about that," he said, his voice betraying an emotion that Clara couldn't quite pin down. "I had it all finished in time, I just had to take of…it doesn't matter, how was your day?"

"My day was crap on a stick," Clara replied quickly, her eyebrow raised. "It matters to you clearly, so spill, what is it?"

"You're not going to like it," the Doctor insisted but Clara merely rolled her eyes. "I had to meet someone, someone who needed help."

"Who were you meeting?" Clara asked with a slight edge to her voice now as she mulled over the options. It wasn't one of the people she'd been expecting however.

"Clara," the Doctor took a deep breath. "I was with Rose."


	4. Chapter 4: Charity Case

***Hey troops! First up, I apologise in advance for anyone who gets annoyed at my conception of Rose in this story, as I'm going to take her character to a few different places and not all of them will please Rose fans. But I'll do my best to do justice to the character, I have no intention of screwing over any character except from a narrative perspective. So, this chapter is a Rose-centric chapter with some Whouffle thrown in for good measure and as such there's a smut warning on this chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed thus far, and to the many amazing people who have followed and/or favourited. But also thanks to every single reader, whether casual, loyal, dedicated or obsessed. Please please keep on letting me know your thoughts and don't be afraid to raise any thoughts you have, problems with it or queries :) TPD***

* * *

Clara's footsteps were tentative. She walked through the dark back streets, homeless people clawing at her legs and begging for cash. The Doctor was relatively calm beside her but she could tell he was still unsure about bringing her here. London's homeless shelters were amongst the worst in the world and Clara was a pretty young woman, who wore nice clothes and smelled like she actually washed. Clara was wrapped up warmly, wearing a big fluffy coat against the chill of the night but she still felt herself shiver and felt overly exposed. If she hadn't had the Doctor with her, she would have been a lot more worried than she actually was. When the Doctor had told her that he'd been seeing Rose, her initial reaction was confusion and shock. The last anyone had heard off of Rose, she had disappeared off to New Zealand to be with her boyfriend Mickey after breaking Ten's heart. But, here she was, in a homeless haven in Greenwich.

It turned out; Mickey had cheated on her and then left her. Rose, broken and alone, had tried to return home to her mother. But things had changed. Rose had spent all of her money on flights to get home and when she got home, it turned out that her mother had passed away in the five years that she had been gone. With nobody to turn to, Rose had ended up on the streets, unable to find a job and without anyone to turn to. She'd been living rough for two weeks, according to the Doctor, until she'd finally found the courage to ask for help. And the only person she could ask was him. The fact that the Doctor hadn't changed his phone number was nothing short of a miracle, Clara decided but then Rose had needed a miracle. The Doctor hadn't known what to do, but of course he was never going to turn away a person who needed help. Even someone who had hurt his cousin. Clara had a slightly ominous feeling that if Rose had hurt her instead of Ten, the Doctor might have been less forgiving.

She could see why the Doctor had been reluctant to tell her. It was clearly something he was reluctant to get himself involved in, let alone get Clara stuck into. And Clara was close to Ten, which made things even harder and even more awkward. The Doctor had spent the day learning Rose's story and pondering over his options. He had promised to return the following day with warm clothes and some food for Rose, but Clara had insisted that they go back that evening and invite Rose to stay with them. The Doctor was naturally on edge about the whole thing, but Clara insisted that Ten would do the same. The Doctor couldn't argue with that. She suspected he was very glad that Clara had taken the decision out of his hands, even though he'd never admit it.

"Rose?" Clara hissed, weaving through the stares and clawing hands. She was grateful that she'd worn trousers. "Rose are you there, it's Clara and the Doctor?"

They saw her, a few streets away from where the Doctor had left her. She looked wretched, Clara realised, but then two weeks on the streets would do that. She was filthy, her clothes skin and long blonde hair streaked with grime. She was shivering and looked like she was starving. The Doctor had apparently bought her a burger but she couldn't understand why he hadn't done more. He was looking horribly guilty and he'd blamed a combination of not wanting to tell Clara and feeling like he was betraying his cousin. Clara bit her lip. He did have a vengeful streak at times but even by his standards, this was cold.

"Clara? Doctor?" Rose stumbled to her feet and hobbled towards them. "Why are you here? I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow Doctor?"

"Well I ended up telling Clara," he admitted. "And she decided that you were coming home with us tonight. You can have a warm shower, get some food down you and then tomorrow we'll talk properly. About Ten, about getting you a job and a place to live…"

But Rose had cut him off with a huge hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and Clara couldn't help but smile as he stumbled backwards. Rose then turned to hug Clara and she felt her windpipe being constricted by the force of the hug. Rose smelled absolutely terrible, like she'd climbed out of a sewage pipe. Clara was released and they trudged out of the back streets, back onto recognised roads. They took the train back to their house and Rose showered while Clara picked out an old pair of pyjamas that she hadn't worn in a long time. They were very baggy on Clara but Rose was much bigger so they fit a lot better on her. Rose was extremely grateful and kept on telling the Doctor and Clara exactly how grateful she was. She had a cup of tea and scoffed down some chips they'd picked up on the way back and then crashed straight into bed. The Doctor and Clara ate in silence and he was watching her carefully. Eventually, as they themselves tucked into bed, he was still looking at her awkwardly.

"Are you angry at me?" he asked and Clara bit her lip. "For not telling you about Rose?"

"I'm disappointed," she replied after a moment's thinking. "Disappointed that you didn't offer to put Rose up straight away. Like I did today with Annabelle."

"Annabelle?" The Doctor's brow furrowed and Clara sighed. They hadn't had a chance to talk about that mess either, or Ten's oncoming storm. Clara groaned. She didn't want to relieve anymore of her day than she had to. She talked as quickly as she could, filling in the Doctor on Annabelle's problems but deliberately keeping quiet on her suspicions about Ten. With Rose back in the picture, that relationship was about to get a hell of a lot messier anyway. In an ideal world, they could get rid of Rose before Ten needed to know. But finding her a job and a flat wouldn't simply be that easy. Rose had dropped out of uni, so all she had were her A-levels and although they were fairly impressive, she'd been out of the country and had no work experience to speak of. Some bar work halfway across the world wasn't exactly going to cut it. She could get a job easily enough probably, but it wouldn't be much, she'd need a flatmate of sorts.

The solution seemed to hit both of them in the same instant. Clara turned to the Doctor and the Doctor turned back to Clara at the same time and they shared a grin.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Clara asked.

"I'm offended that you even have to ask," the Doctor retorted.

* * *

Rose woke to a comfy bed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She was embarrassed, but also grateful. Her life had completely fallen apart around her and she was eternally grateful for the Doctor and Clara for picking her up when she was at her lowest ebb. Mickey had left her, her mother was gone. She had no money, no job and nobody to turn to and they had opened up their home to her. She didn't feel worthy of it, especially after everything that had happened with Ten. It had always been in Rose's nature to run when she was scared of commitment. The irony was that she had run into a commitment, on the complete other side of the world. To this day, she wasn't sure why she had dumped David and travelled to New Zealand with Mickey, but she regretted it. When she considered the life that she could have had here, with him, then it made no sense for her to have jumped ship from it. Maybe the world was punishing her for her poor choices.

Clara knocked on her door gently, a plate with a pancakes on it in one hand and a mug of tea in the other when Rose answered it. Rose devoured the pancakes and even if they hadn't been the only nice thing she'd eaten in weeks, they would still be the nicest pancakes that she had ever had. After breakfast, she sat with the Doctor and Clara who kept shooting each other nervous looks. Rose felt the small pit in her stomach rising. They clearly weren't going to throw her out onto the street but it wasn't as if they'd magically fixed her life either. Clara started, after what seemed like an eternity of chewing on her lip. Rose wondered how Clara's lips looked so pretty and red, she chewed them all the time from what Rose could see and remember.

"We can get you a job," she started and Rose heaved a sigh of relief. "But it won't be pleasant and it won't pay very much," Clara warned. "And you won't be able to start until September either, and it'll mean I'll have to pull strings which I didn't even know I had. We'd give you a job with the Doctor but we can't because everything goes through Ten and we don't want him knowing you're around."

"You need to keep your distance from my cousin," the Doctor warned. "He'll be angry with us if he finds we've been hiding you but we both agree it is in his best interest not to find out. He's engaged, to a lovely girl called Martha and the last thing anyone wants is to screw that up. If you mess things up for him, you can forget about us helping you."

So they were playing good cop, bad cop? Rose wouldn't have had the Doctor pinned as the bad cop but apparently that was the way round they were doing it.

"Rose, we've found you a flat and we're willing to cover the first three months' rent," Clara sighed, with another nervous bite of her lip. "But only because you'll be sharing with someone who needs a lift up, nearly as much as you do. A friend of mine, her name is Annabelle. I'm not sure if you two really met much back at uni, so I'd be surprised if you remembered her."

"That's amazing," Rose gushed, wanting to hug them all over again. "I'll pay you both back, every penny, I promise. I proper promise." And she would. She promised herself that, there and then. "What is this job?"

Clara allowed herself a smile at this. "You're going to have to be a dinner lady…"

* * *

Clara didn't know how on earth she was going to sell this to Annabelle. But she felt terrible for Rose and wasn't about to throw her to the wolves. The Doctor had been remarkably quiet about the whole thing. He hadn't said much at all and after they had spoken to Rose, he had retreated to his study. Clara had taken Rose out shopping for some clothes and had arranged to meet Annabelle the next day. Annabelle had sounded somewhat irritated and sceptical when Clara said that she had an idea to help out her friend, but if Annabelle was going to be arsy about it, Clara would just ask for her help, rather than try and make it seem like she was offering it. Not that Annabelle would buy it for a second, but maybe it would at the very least let her pride relinquish enough to accept the deal. The whole situation felt uneasy to Clara, but at least she had the opportunity to help out Annabelle without Annabelle having to feel like she was taking charity off of them. Clara had no such reservations when it came to Rose. Rose knew that she was getting their charity and that it was through pity. Clara was hoping that that would be what kept her away from Ten. Ten and Martha might not be perfect together, but Rose still had no right to stick her neck in.

When they got back, Rose went upstairs to try on some of her new clothes and hang the rest in the wardrobe. Clara went to check on the Doctor, who was still up in his study. She could tell that he was on edge and him being on edge automatically made Clara on edge. His head was buried in his laptop and he was typing frantically. He didn't hear her enter and it wasn't until she was tapping on his shoulder that he reacted, jumping a mile before turning and smiling on instinct when he saw her.

"Clara," he greeted, standing and pulling her into a quick hug and they kissed. "How did it go with Rose?"

"Fine," Clara replied, sensing the tension building in him. "You don't like her being here. You don't like the fact that we're helping her." They weren't questions. Clara knew the Doctor, knew that what she was saying was the truth; she didn't need him to confirm it. He did anyway, inclining his head slightly, and turning away from Clara to the laptop, slumping back into his seat. Clara massaged his shoulders gently and she could feel him tense up at her touch.

"I'm sorry," he said eventually. "I don't know how to feel about Rose. Part of me, a great big part of me, hates her for what she did to my cousin and doesn't feel that she deserves my charity. But then, she's desperate and she needs help and what happened between them was just one of those things. I can't let her rot on the streets just because she dumped my cousin. What sort of person would that make me?"

"A normal person," Clara admitted, still rubbing his shoulders. She leaned in and kissed his neck and he smiled. He turned and kissed her properly this time, their lips meeting and their tongues connecting. Even after so long, Clara still felt an electric shock race through her at his touch. He was on his feet and Clara ran to lock the study door. They had already christened every room in the house multiple times, so they rarely bothered to make the effort to go for the bedroom. She wouldn't have bothered locking the door at all except Rose was in the house. "Everyone holds grudges, it makes you a good person when you can look beyond them," she continued. "That's why you're the Doctor. My Doctor." She kissed him again now, more ferociously and he responded in kind. His purple jacket found itself discarded and Clara's skirt was ripped away as their kiss intensified.

Her hands were around his neck, tearing into his shoulders, as he mussed her hair. She rolled her eyes. He loved doing that; it was as if he was leaving himself and other people a reminder. Like yeah, look at her hair, that is just had sex hair, don't even doubt it. Clara found it sweet and endearing that he still felt the need to feel proud about the fact that they were having sex. She quietly felt the same way, like she still couldn't believe he was real. She was unbuttoning his shirt now and it was gone in the flutter of a heartbeat. Her bare nipples pressed against his chest as he unclipped her bra and it was only a few more moments before they were naked and he had her pinned up against the wall. She gasped and shrieked his name as her back rode against the wooden panelling. She felt cold behind her and the Doctor's heat in front and pleasure was blazing through her. She moaned softly and collapsed, letting the Doctor do all the work as she clung to him for dear life.

After what seemed like an eternity, with orgasms hitting Clara in waves, the Doctor let out one final, huge grunt and almost dropped her. She pushed off and he plummeted, her landing on top of him, still inside each other. To say it hurt would be an understatement, the Doctor letting out a strangled cry and Clara wanted to scream. She rolled off of him, gasping.

"Never do that again," the Doctor whimpered. Clara agreed with him on that front.

* * *

If Rose noticed her considerable limp as she came downstairs to make dinner, she didn't comment. The Doctor had gone back to work, but he was in a lot of pain and Clara had promised to make him feel better later. He was going to hold her to that. Clara cooked quickly and quietly, occasionally shooting a look over at Rose, who was sat in the lounge, watching TV with wide eyes as if the size of their TV was bigger than any she'd ever seen. Clara felt a pang of guilt. Even in New Zealand, Rose and Mickey wouldn't have lived a good life. They had no money, got by but nothing more than that. Clara and the Doctor lived in comfortable luxury, with more money than they knew what to do with. The Doctor quietly donated 75% of his wages to charity and Clara was all for that. She didn't have to teach, but she loved it. It made her feel great about herself and she felt like she was giving back to the community. She hadn't been concentrating on her pasta and it was smoking. Clara swore. The Doctor cooked over twice as much as she did, once they had both agreed to stop skirting around the fact that she was at best an average cook and at worst appalling. Clara made up for it in other ways, by doing the dishes, more of the housework and the like, but the Doctor was the chef in the house.

She heard him thundering down the stairs as Rose offered to set the table. As Rose busied herself, the Doctor tried to resurrect the pasta, which Clara was grateful for. Once she made one mistake, she was rarely able to fix it and things went badly wrong quickly got even worse. The meal was just about edible, due to the Doctor's heroic resuscitation efforts. Clara was sensing that despite her best efforts to soothe the tension, the Doctor was still on edge around Rose. She kicked him under the table and he allowed himself to smile. Rose was clearly feeling awkward but she made the effort to try and engage them both in conversation, asking various titbits about their lives. It made the Doctor more uncomfortable than anything, although Clara was happy to answer the mundane elements to them. Any time she veered near to a topic concerning Ten, the Doctor abruptly changed the subject and Clara couldn't help but feel that the sooner Rose moved in with Annabelle, the better for all concerned.


	5. Chapter 5: Centurion

***Hello again everyone! I can see why yesterday's chapter was somewhat controversial, so from one fresh set of characters to another! Did somebody say the Ponds? I wanted to develop a real friendship between Rory and Clara in this story, so I really hope you like this chapter and the slightly darker note it ends on. Also, Clara gets a new and very familiar nickname and the Doctor spots a potential problem...As ever thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! Keep it up :) TPD***

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Annabelle took to the new arrangement better and quicker than Clara could have hoped. It only took a few hours of arguing to get through to her and she agreed to keep schtum to Ten as well. Clara couldn't help but be worried that if this got back to the Doctor's cousin, everything would blow up in her face. This was all her doing after all, the Doctor was more of a reluctant participant than anything else. But things were coming together. Annabelle had rent for a few months covered and then Rose would start working at Clara's school and she could get herself up on her feet. Until then, she was trying to find some work over the summer, a better job than the one Clara could offer up, or one to go alongside it. Her luck was patchy at best. A couple of interviews, but nothing substantial. Clara felt bad for Rose, she was in a really bad place. She hadn't even had a proper chance to grieve for her mother, who Clara knew she missed terribly.

Clara, meanwhile, was able in the few weeks that followed to get her mind away from Rose and Annabelle, at least for a while. July turned into August and Clara was loving life. The Doctor seemed to have put the Rose incident from his mind as well, because he was perkier than before and this helped put Clara at ease. She and the Doctor spent the majority of their days working separately, her on her papers, him on his designs, but they were never far away from each other. They had lunch together, made each other tea and the occasional distraction. Clara was furious when one time they ended up having sex on top of her exam papers but she quickly forgave him when he threw her a candlelit dinner in the garden that evening on a picnic blanket. The inevitable happened and the whole thing caught fire, but it had been a nice gesture.

Clara was supposed to be meeting Rory for lunch but she was running late. She felt guilty, because of his shifts they rarely saw each other much and he'd swapped a shift so that he could meet her. She knew he would understand, but that wasn't the point. And she didn't even have a good excuse; it was just that she'd been caught up in the shower with the Doctor. Rory was waiting for her when she got to the restaurant. Rory Williams was tall and skinny, with mousy brown hair and a calm demeanour. Clara often wondered how Amy and Rory worked together so well, as she was a firecracker and he was the complete opposite. That was why she liked him so much, he was a calming influence in a crazy world and maybe that was why Amy loved him so much. Clara couldn't say that she blamed the redhead. Rory was wearing his favourite cheque jacket and Clara took pride in the fact that she had bought him it for Christmas a few years back. When he saw her, he grinned and stood to pull her into a huge hug. Rory's hugs were bone crushing and lifted her off her feet. Clara squealed as he put her down and she glared at him as she sat down.

"That's for being half an hour late," he teased. "At least you had the good sense to text this time. The Doctor's a lucky man Clara, if I can barely drag you out of bed for me once a fortnight."

Clara blushed at this and Rory laughed again to show he was just messing with her. A waiter came over and they ordered quickly, Clara still feeling bad for making Rory wait. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to get it under control as she hadn't had time without leaving the house. Rory snorted with laughter again and she blushed. She hated when he did this to her, playing the guilt trip card. In his defence, she was almost always late.

"So I take it things with the Doctor are going well?" Rory was smirking and Clara rolled her eyes at this. "What about work? Getting all of those exam papers done?"

"Yes," Clara replied quickly, thinking about the stack still in her room. "I'm getting there," she clarified, waiting for Rory to start laughing at her again. He didn't this time, but leaned forward to drink his drink. "What about you?" Clara was quick to change the subject. "How's being London's best nurse?"

Rory's turn to blush now. He was much better at his job than he would ever let on and Clara knew that, having seen him in action back when she was unemployed and meeting him for lunch almost every day. "I'm not London's best nurse!" he insisted.

"Sure you are," Clara shrugged. "You wonder why they're offering you so many extra shifts, letting you swap whenever you have a lunch date with little old me? It's because they love you. You can deny it all that you want, but we both know it's the truth."

"Things are good at work," Rory said quickly and Clara smiled. He was so endearing when he was trying to be modest. "How's Annabelle getting on?" The concern was obvious in his voice now and Clara tried not to wince. She had not been planning on telling Rory about Rose if she could help it. There was only a couple of weeks until Annabelle's deadline and Clara was worried about her friend, but the more people that learned of Rose's presence, the more likely it would be that Ten found out. "That badly huh?"

Clara had been in her head too long. "I don't know if she'll get her book to the publisher on time," Clara admitted truthfully. "And if she doesn't, then she's in trouble. I've told her to get a job, just to keep her ticking over but…"

"But Annabelle's stubborn," Rory finished. "Stubborn as anything. Do you remember that night, last night of the Easter break in 3rd Year?"

"Do I ever," Clara groaned. "She was drunk as all hell, sat in that abandoned car wreck down by Charleston Avenue, insisting that she could drive us all home. It took us almost an hour to get her out, I was just about to call the Doctor to send reinforcements. We need to go out on the town Rory," Clara informed him. "You, me, Annabelle, just like old times. One night where you don't have to work the next day." Rory smiled at this.

"You know I'd love to," he said. "I'll do my best!" he added when Clara pouted. Rory shook his head, a wry smile appearing on his face. "Damn you Oswin."

Oswin was Rory's nickname for Clara. The first time they had met, they had been very drunk and he'd misheard her surname and it had stuck. Clara liked it and she secretly used it as her username for various bits and bobs around the school computers. She'd never tell Rory that though, or he'd never let her hear the end of it. Her next question posed a problem.

"How's Amy?" Clara asked, as their food arrived. "Oh. That's not good. What happened?"

"What makes you think anything's wrong? You didn't even give me time to answer?"

"Your face."

"What about my face?" Rory sounded exasperated. "It didn't change."

"Exactly," Clara replied triumphantly. "Your face didn't change. Whenever I normally so much as say her name, you light up like a Christmas tree. So come on Centurion, what is it?" The Centurion nickname was also a call back to the night that they had met. He had been wearing a Roman outfit. She had started calling him Centurion and once more the nickname had stuck. Rory was pulling a face now. Clara was suddenly worried and her hand shot across the table onto Rory's arm. "It's not serious is it?"

Her voice must have sounded more worried than she had meant it to, because Rory let out an exasperated sigh at this point. He bit his lip and looked Clara in the eyes. When he did so, she saw that he was not alright. She furrowed her eyebrows and put on her best teacher smile, like the one she gave a crying Year Seven. Rory knew that face well and didn't seem impressed that she was using it on him.

"I'm not one of your kids Clara," he snapped and she jerked her hand away from him, her face slipping back into a natural position of annoyance. "I'm sorry," he said quietly and Clara let her sympathy bleed onto her face, trying hard not to make it look like a teacher face. "This isn't your fault, I'm not angry at you. It's just…" Rory took a deep breath. "Amy has to do a naked shoot next month and I asked her not to. Because I told her I didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys staring her up and down. I mean, I appreciate that that's what she does in her job and I'm behind her, but I just felt uncomfortable with the whole thing. I told her that she shouldn't have to get her clothes off to keep her job."

"That seems reasonable," Clara nodded, dreading the answer to her next question. "And what did Amy say?"

"Apparently there's no pressure on her to do it but she thought it would be a good idea," Rory replied. "She's annoyed at me for asking her not to do it. Apparently I need to stop being such a…" he paused. "I can't remember her exact words, but it was something along the lines of jealous prude. It's her body and her job and I need to stop trying to control her or some nonsense like that."

Clara bit her lip. It sounded as if things were bad between the Ponds and the last thing she wanted to do was escalate the situation. She thought hard for a few moments, as the visibly upset Rory avoided her eye.

"Talk to Amy," Clara said eventually, her voice low. "Don't let this whole thing blow out of proportion. Try and be as fair and reasonable as you can…"

"That's not the point Clara," Rory snapped agitatedly and Clara backed off. "I hate having to be reasonable and fair and the one who's never allowed to get angry. This isn't even about the job. Whenever Amy makes a mistake, I have to treat her reasonably; I'm never allowed to get angry. But she constantly blows up at me. She's allowed to shout and scream because I don't like the idea of a bunch of pervs staring at her, but if I get annoyed because she does things like undermine me at work by calling in sick for me so I can spend the day with her, then that's fine. I can get in trouble for that, but it's just a game to her and if I get even slightly annoyed, then she just pouts and says how unfair I'm being and gets angry and leaves."

Clara's jaw had dropped. Rory was breathing heavily now and he threw twenty quid on the table before standing up and stumbling out of the restaurant. Clara followed suit, grabbing her jacket and throwing it around her, hurrying after the departing Centurion. She caught up with him halfway down the street, his hands in his pockets and he was clearly trying not to cry.

"Leave me alone Clara," he shouted as he heard her approaching.

"Rory!" Clara called and ran to overtake him. "I didn't realise things were so bad between you! What can I do to help?"

"They're not that bad Clara," Rory replied with a sigh. "I just get frustrated sometimes. More frustrated than I should, because Amy is the best thing that has ever happened to me and if all I have to do is hold my tongue occasionally then that is what I'll have to do. I just hate how she's never in the wrong and I'm always the one apologising. And I'm sorry for running out on you. This is just really hard, you know?"

Clara hugged Rory, pulling him in close and resting her head on his shoulder to show him that she was there. He hugged her back, a tentative but caring hug that showed how much he needed her. She smiled warmly at him and he clearly had to try even harder not to cry.

"I'm sorry too Rory," Clara said quietly. She wasn't sure how to proceed from here and Rory insisted that he needed to go but that he would call Clara later. She begged him to talk to Amy properly, but she was somewhat sceptical that that would end up happening. Rory loved Amy that much was clear and he was willing to put up with hell for her; he always had been. And he was scared that telling Amy he wasn't happy would make things worse rather than better. So chances were, Rory would keep his mouth shut and the next time something like this happened, it would be a repeat and nothing would be achieved except the pair of them getting annoyed. Clara chewed on her lip as she walked home and the Doctor seemed miffed when she got there.

"Clara!" he greeted, swooping in to hug and kiss her. She responded in kind, if slightly wearily. She didn't know how to help Rory and she wanted to more than anything. The Doctor guided her to the sofa and handed her a much welcome cup of tea. "How was Rory?"

What should have been an innocent question suddenly felt intimate and probing, as if Clara's honesty and very soul were being dissected. She wanted to say that he was fine but the Doctor would know instantly that she was lying. Maybe he would let it slip. Or maybe he would interrogate Amy about it. But if she said the truth, that Rory was struggling, then the Doctor would probably interrogate Amy anyway. And the last thing Clara wanted was for Rory to get it in the neck from Amy. She bit her lip and in her hesitancy, she knew she'd given the game away, the Doctor was way too astute to miss it. He was biting his lip, something that he rarely did and Clara realised that he too was hiding something.

"Why?" she asked. "Did Amy say something?"

The tone of her voice must have sounded the way she felt, hostile, because the Doctor seemed more upset by this than anything. He was thinking, his brain running a hundred miles an hour. He eventually took a deep breath and turned to Clara.

"Amy was upset. Rory said some hurtful things about her job the other day and it has completely rocked her confidence. She always thought that he was behind her, 100% so for him to turn on her was just a bit hurtful. I think she needed his support for something difficult and when he didn't give it, she didn't know what to do. I told her that Rory would come around and that she needed to stay calm and not get worked up. She can be stubborn when she gets worked up and that doesn't help anyone."

"Rory was upset," Clara confessed. "He feels that he doesn't have much of a say in the relationship. He doesn't like the way that all Amy has to do is kick up a fuss and she can get whatever she wants."

For a moment, they were sat there, looking at each other, digesting the information. They locked eyes and Clara could see that the Doctor was thinking along the same lines that she was. They were both annoyed. They were both angry. They were both feeling as though the other had somehow betrayed them. Clara was furious with Amy and the Doctor was furious with Rory. Clara took a deep breath and the Doctor was eventually the one who spoke first.

"Clara," he said quietly. "I think there's only one way to handle this. We both have to agree not to interfere."

"What?" Clara was confused and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you see?" the Doctor sounded more agitated than ever. "We've both chosen sides and we didn't even realise that we were doing it. If this blows up, then you and I could end up at loggerheads. We're both only getting one side of the story and automatically assuming that it's the correct version."

Clara wanted to snap back that Rory's version was the correct version. But everything had spin. There were two ways to looking at every story, every argument could be viewed through the eyes of each participant. And the Doctor was right. She didn't even question Rory's account of events. Even if it was completely accurate, that didn't change the fact that as much as Clara believed Rory, the Doctor would believe Amy. And they had to try and remain neutral. Because if they ended up on either side of the picket fence…

"I don't want our relationship to become intertwined with theirs," the Doctor admitted. "I don't want us to live or die by the Ponds. I love Amy, but not enough to give you up just to stand by her side. So we have to agree. We can be their shoulder to cry on. We can give them advice. We can offer them friendly support. But we can't offer them more than that. We can't get involved too far. And above all else, the one thing we cannot do is use our intimate knowledge against them. You can't tell Rory what I tell you about Amy and I won't tell Amy anything that you say against Rory. It's not fair and it's not right. If we start becoming manipulative, if we start using each other against the Ponds, then we're in trouble."

Clara had to agree to that. The Doctor was right. She knew everything that the Doctor knew about Amelia Pond and likewise, she never held back against Rory. If things got ugly, they had to remain on the side lines. If Clara found herself squaring off against Amy, she would be squaring off against the Doctor and that wasn't something that she was prepared to do. And nor was he. She nodded and the Doctor pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry that it has to be this way. I know that you want to defend Rory; that you want to go and shout yourself hoarse at Amy. Believe me Clara I get it. And I'm sorry that I'm standing in the way of that."

"It's not your fault," Clara replied, kissing his cheek. "It's just the way that things are. Neither of us can help that, we just need to make do. And they'll understand, Rory and Amy. Besides, I'm sure things aren't as bad as they appear. It's probably just something that they need to work out. It'll all be fine by next week."

And in the weeks to come, Clara would look back at this conversation and laugh about how very wrong she was, about how completely wrong her thought that it would blow over would be and above all else, how wrong she was that both she and the Doctor could possibly remain neutral. But he was right, of course. If their relationship became intertwined with a collapsing Pond-relationship, then they were in trouble. Deep trouble.


	6. Chapter 6: Planning for the Future

***Hey again troops! After a couple of chapters focusing on some of the other figures in the Doctor and Clara's life, I wanted to put the pressure back on Whouffle! There will be some discussion of other characters and their relationships but I haven't even mentioned the W word since the proposal so I figured it was time to put that back on track. Ultimately, this story is about the Doctor and Clara and their relationship and everything else is secondary to that. I hope you enjoy it. As ever, thank you so much to everyone who is following this story, to those of you who have favourited it, those who keep giving me their feedback (and please keep reviewing because I want to know how people are finding the story) and even if you just read it, that still means the world to me. Quick writing update, my lead has been pegged back to 5 chapters but if I have time tonight I'll try and blitz Chapter 12. Enjoy! TPD***

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The Doctor had been working hard on one of his greatest designs yet. When he was in the middle of one of his grandiose schemes, he hated being interrupted for almost anything. The 'almost' kissed his cheek and snaked an arm around him from behind as she slipped a mug of tea onto his desk. He smiled instinctively and turned to face his fiancée. She always looked more beautiful than he remembered. Whenever she was out of his vision, he could never quite recapture her beauty in all its glory. There was always some small detail he left out, some small blemish to her beauty. Whether it was a misplaced freckle or the shine of her hair not being quite right or the exact shade of brown in her eyes, there was always a tiny mistake in his memory. Clara's hair was tied up into a loose bun, the odd strand just falling onto her face or the nape of her neck. Her dress was flowery and blue, fluttering around her knees. Her eyeliner was set to kill and her lips were a perfect shade of pink. The Doctor's smile widened at the sight of her and she kissed him on the lips. He could taste peach and the taste sent shockwaves running down his spine.

"Lunch?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. "Or are you too busy?"

"I thought you were meeting Annabelle?" the Doctor replied, ignoring the question because he was too busy but didn't want to turn Clara down. If he told her he wasn't, she would know. And he hadn't told her that he was supposed to be seeing his cousin. With good reason, if he told her, she'd make him go.

"She cancelled," Clara replied and for some reason she didn't sound overly upset. "She's nearly finished her book and she still has two days to get it off before it's too late. The fact that she thinks she still has a chance to finish it is good news in itself, so I really don't mind being bailed on. After all, when we made the plans, she didn't think she had a cat's chance in hell of getting the book done and was just about ready to give up."

The Doctor nodded appreciatively, but Clara caught him shooting a sneaky look at his work and the upset in her voice was well hidden, but for someone who knew her as well as the Doctor did, it was there.

"Okay you're busy," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "It's cool, I'll make a sandwich and bring something up for you. Tuna?"

"Clara, you know you don't have to do that," the Doctor insisted. "Why don't we go and grab a burger from the van down the road? I can take twenty minutes out, this isn't going anywhere." She looked like she was really contemplating it. "We both want to and we both know that I can catch up, so don't feel guilty. Let's just go."

Clara rolled her eyes and then frowned as a buzzing came from her bra. She plucked out her phone and winked at the Doctor. He had spotted the caller ID and was about to protest when she placed the phone to her ear and the Doctor winced, knowing exactly what was coming.

"Oh hey David!" Clara was beaming. "Yeah I do, he's right here with me why?" The Doctor tried to avoid cursing out loud. "Oh was he now? Well no worries Ten, we'll be there in twenty minutes. Both of us. Yep, he'll be coming. Oh trust me, he's not going to say no to me. See you in twenty! Bye!"

She swatted the Doctor in the back of the head and he looked at her forlornly. She didn't look angry, more amused than anything else, as if she was trying her hardest to be annoyed but it was like trying to stay angry with a puppy, she just couldn't manage it.

"Why didn't you tell me you were supposed to be having lunch with your cousin?" she accused. "And, more importantly, why aren't you at lunch with your cousin?

"Because you'd make me go!" the Doctor replied. "And if I went, I would terrible, because I'd spend the entire time worrying about how badly I have to lie to him about Rose and I hate lying to the people I care about. Every single time I lie to you it burns me up inside."

"And yet," Clara mused. "For someone who hates lying so much, you are extraordinarily proficient in it. You're doing it right now. To me. We both know that you can lie easily and most of the time without remorse. That's not the real reason that you're avoiding your cousin, so why don't you be honest with me?"

"Because lying is easier," the Doctor replied. "Besides, I meant what I said, every time I lie to you, it burns me up inside."

"I don't doubt that honey," Clara said gently, kissing his cheek to show that she believed him and wasn't angry with him. "I really don't. So what's up with Ten? Because you're itching to share."

He was. He really was. And Clara's big, soft eyes welcomed him inwards, practically begging him to be honest. She was the only person on the planet that made him feel that way; that made him want to be honest with them. Even Amy couldn't manage that. He loved Amy to bits, but he could lie to her as easily as he could his own cousin. But not Clara. Even now, lying to her made him feel dirty, as if he had committed some great crime.

"Things with Ten," he started. "Our working together seemed like a great idea at the time, but he hardly ever sees Martha and he's too wrapped up in it. I keep telling him that he has holiday to use up but he never does. So a couple of weeks ago, I forced him to take a week off, or he'd be suspended."

"You pulled rank on him," Clara said quietly. "And he's angry at you for that."

"He was never supposed to be my subordinate," the Doctor told her. "You know that. He was supposed to be my partner, someone I could trust to run an integral part of the company whilst I sat in my room, being the crazy scientist. But it's my company and while he was out having a life with Rose and growing up like a normal person, I built it up from scratch. And pulling rank on him was such a horrible thing to do but I did it for his own good. I just don't want him to feel undermined. Anyway, thanks for offering to come today Clara, but we're supposed to be talking business. And as much as I don't want to be patronising to you of all people…"

"If you two need to talk shop, I can stay here and make myself some lunch," Clara said, her smile more genuine than the last time she had suggested it. "But if you too are going to have a falling out, then I'm going to be there to mediate."

"I'd like you there," the Doctor admitted. "I always want you there. But I don't want you to feel as though we're talking over your head. You know we both seriously admire what you do Clara, you have to deal with other humans. I can barely deal with Strax and he's the least social being on the planet."

"I'm going," Clara informed him with a light kiss. "Now come on, we need to get going. Or will I need to change? I can't have myself looking run down at one of your fancy restaurant meetings now can I?" she teased, shooting him a flirtatious wink that send him flushing a deep red.

"You always look perfect, just the way you are," he replied and it was her turn to blush. "Let's go."

* * *

Ten looked pleased to see her and Clara sensed that he was of a similar mind set to the Doctor about their little falling out. The two cousins eyed each other up cautiously and the Doctor quickly apologised for pulling rank on him. Ten waved it off, saying that when he was the owner of the business and the Doctor was his managing director, then he could call the shots. Clara was relieved to see that they were going to be adult about it, which frankly was astounding because they both had the demeanour and at times maturity of twelve year old boys. Ten interrogated Clara about various mundane aspects of her life and in return, she grilled him about Martha. The Doctor's enforced holiday had been good for them, Ten admitted, ignoring his cousin's triumphantly smug look. Clara was glad to hear that he and Martha had spent some time together but she still suspected that having the Doctor enforce it upon him was more counterproductive than anything else. She didn't say that though.

Then, they started talking physics and Clara let her mind wander as she delved into her salad. She normally hated eating so healthily, but she was in a fancy restaurant and Ten was on a health binge, which the Doctor was apparently supporting, so she felt bad for him. Besides, she didn't hate salad. It just lacked a meaty kick. She was jumped back into the conversation by the word wedding and Ten grinned at her as she seemed to jump in shock. She shared a look with the Doctor, whose mouth had also dropped open slightly.

"You two still haven't talked about it then?" Ten's voice was sympathetic, but there was more than a hint of intrigue, almost as if he couldn't believe it. Clara wasn't sure how they'd kept avoiding the subject but they had been engaged for over two months and they were yet to really start planning a wedding. It wasn't that Clara was excited, but in truth, nothing had changed that much in their relationship and she was still riding off of the wave of euphoria from being able to say that the Doctor was her fiancé. She hadn't even thought about the connotations of that. That there was a wedding on the horizon. Or not the horizon, maybe closer than that.

"Do we need to?" the Doctor of course was completely oblivious. "I mean, I just sort of assumed it would work itself out. We pick a date, get a place, and get some flowers, a man to do the food, invite you guys. Bam, problem solved."

"Oh my dear sweet, naïve cousin," Ten chuckled. "You have absolutely no idea what you're in for. Does he Clara?"

"Not a bloody clue," Clara laughed nervously. In truth neither did she. Right now, she had enough stress in her life, without wanting to deal with a wedding on top of that. Their engagement didn't entail that they had to be married immediately. She was only twenty five; she had plenty of more pressing concerns in her life. Like Annabelle, or Ten himself or the Ponds, or her father. She was going up to see him for a few days before she went back to work, which was getting treacherously close. Her Year 13s and Year 11s were all celebrating and Clara had scored 3 As, 4 Bs and 1 C with her 13s, a result that her supervisor had said was exceptional. Everyone in her GCSE class had passed with at least a C as well, so Clara had already impressed the right people. She had spoken to Henry, the only one out of her Year 12 class to score an A, with over 90%. The rest were a litter of Bs with the odd C. Clara was happy with the way her work was going, but she needed to keep up the good work. She was still a young, female English teacher, she couldn't afford to coast.

The rest of the meal passed fairly amicably and Clara was glad that she hadn't had to mediate a brawl. The Doctor squeezed her arm gently as they left and she smiled warmly at him. It was one of the most intimate gestures he could give her, because it was the first affectionate thing he had ever done to her, the day that they met. It wasn't their first contact, as they met by barrelling into each other and the Doctor had landed with an elbow in Clara's chest, but Clara preferred him squeezing her arm gently to elbowing her in the ribs, so it wasn't exactly a loss on her part.

"Do you want to start planning?" he asked gently and Clara shook her head, smiling warmly at him to indicate that it didn't bother her. "I mean, I didn't realise how much work it would take and…"

"Doctor," Clara cut him off. "I am in no rush whatsoever to marry you. We have a great life, almost the perfect life and I don't want to change it. We will get married and probably soon but right now, I am so in love with you and so happy that I'm happy to wait until we have a clearer path. We have so much stress on every side that throwing another wedding into the mix is not going to help anyone. Let's at least wait until Ten and Martha are married and then start thinking about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Clara told him with a firm smile and a light kiss. "Unless you want to start planning?"

He stammered a little and fell into a mumbling wreck for a few moments before composing himself. Clara forgot how nervous he could be and slipped her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked. It was almost too soon that they were back home and having to get back to work, Clara on her lesson plans, him on his insane scheme. Clara didn't like the way he referred to it as an insane scheme, it made it sound as though he was planning world domination or something.

That evening, when they settled down for dinner, which the Doctor had cooked so was thankfully delicious, Clara could sense that he was still holding out on her so she poked him with her fork and smiled at him openly, trying to get him to open up to her. He didn't often lie to her so when he did, it worried her. He was picking at his food and ignored her poke, keeping his eyes firmly on his peas. Clara sighed heavily to make her presence known and he shot her an instinctive smile, as if he had properly composed himself now to lie to her. She raised her eyebrow now, probing him gently with her face and he was visibly relenting.

"Stop it," he whined and Clara laughed at this. "I'm serious Clara!"

"So am I!" she responded, mimicking the Doctor's pout and he tried to avoid laughing but failed miserably. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, per se," the Doctor started and this earned him an eye roll from Clara, which he ignored. "I was just wondering, do you want to have kids?"

The question hit Clara like a freight train. She was speechless, completely and utterly speechless. She didn't know what to say, what to think. She needed clarification. Was this the Doctor asking her if she wanted kids now, wanted kids ever? What was he after, when would he be after it? Clara needed time to think this over, she needed to try and clear her head and form some sort of coherent thought pattern.

"Yes," she replied almost instantaneously. She was shocked at herself, but the word had slipped out of her mouth before she'd even thought about it. "With you, yes." The clarification was required. Because she did. After a moment of bleak, existential crisis, Clara had come to the conclusion that she wanted more than anything in the world to have a child with the Doctor. "Doctor, I want a child with you." The words sounded even more beautiful said out loud.

"Now?" he sounded excited and Clara rolled her eyes at this. "Like, can we go upstairs and get started?"

"For God's sake you're keen," Clara laughed. "At least let me finish my peas," she joked and the Doctor looked at her hungrily. "Doctor, I took my pill this morning, it'll be at least a few days, if not weeks before we're even likely to get close to a conception. These things can take months, even if we both have super fertile bodies, which is itself a manner up for debate."

"Maybe I just want to have sex with you," the Doctor teased, looping an around her and kissing her gently. She smiled at this and kissed him back.

"Well maybe I want to have sex with you too," Clara responded playfully. "But first, I want to finish my food, so stop looking at me like I'm an ice cream that's about to melt on you if you don't finish it off quickly."

He seemed annoyed by this comment but Clara nuzzled his shoulder affectionately to let him know that she was only joking. It was crazy how quickly she had made such a life changing decision but to her it made sense. She had gone from putting off wedding planning to trying for a child in a matter of hours and yet she had never been happier. Sure, things could be complicated, but a child was something that she could imagine having with him and the idea of having her baby boy or girl there when she was married was something that Clara liked the idea of. Money wasn't an issue and she and the Doctor could give a child everything it ever wanted in the world. She felt as if her mind was a buzz of activity and that night, when she and the Doctor had sex, it felt different. It felt as if they were going to make something happen, something greater than both of them. If it was possible for her to love him anymore than she already did, it had been achieved.

It was when they were lying in bed, side by side, with their hands enclosed, that Clara felt waves of panic wash over her at what she had just agreed to. A baby, an actual baby. She'd probably have to take time off of work, although being a teacher it would be very easy and manageable for her, especially considering how wonderful her supervisor was. Clara didn't want to take loads of time out and knowing that the Doctor would always be around to take care of the baby meant that she wouldn't have to. But she would have to go through drastic changes to her body and Clara wasn't going to pretend she wasn't terrified at that prospect. And everything would change in her life. She'd got to a point where she was happy with the Doctor and just hours ago had wanted nothing to change. Why was she so desperate to throw another challenge into their amazing relationship?

But when she thought about it, pictured it, everything seemed to slot into place. The image of her and the Doctor, with a small child in her arms, him desperately fumbling around and Clara terrified that he'd drop it, only for him to pull that child into his arms and never let go.

"What are you thinking about?" the Doctor asked her quietly, wrapping his hand around hers. She smiled and pressed her head against his neck, resting it on his shoulder and sighing contentedly.

"Us," she replied. "The future. Our baby." She squeezed his hand. She stared longingly at him. "Are we really doing this?" she whispered.

"Only if you want to," the Doctor replied tenderly and Clara nodded. She did. More than anything in the world.


	7. Chapter 7: Of Long Lost Loved-Ones

***Hey everyone! Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone is having a great day, filled with red roses and proposals whatever else people do on Valentine's Day. Anyway, my donation to this fine day is Chapter 7, which sees the return of Dave and the Doctor having to play the Clara role. I really hope you guys enjoy it! As ever, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited, please keep reviewing, it makes my day :) TPD***

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The train up to Blackpool had been long and arduous. Clara was exhausted and couldn't wait to collapse into the spare room at her dad's apartment. Since his divorce, her father had moved into a smaller, more compact apartment, better suited to his needs. She felt bad for him, but he had seemed happy enough over the phone, although she hadn't seen him in person since he had punched her next fiancé in the face. The Doctor had spoken to him about it and apparently everything was fine, but Clara couldn't help but feel a touch of resentment towards him for that. She dropped her overnight bag beside her and let off a fierce yawn as she knocked on the door. There was no answer. Clara checked her watch. She'd told her dad she'd arrive around half 7, it was 7:38. She knocked again and she heard noises from within but nobody came to answer the door. Slightly worried now, Clara tried the door. Luckily, it opened to her touch and she stepped inside cautiously, to be hit by a wave of smells. The stench of beer and vomit rolled over her and made Clara want to throw up. She ran over the window and threw open the curtains and window, letting fresh Northern air gasp into her lungs as she tried hard not to gag. She opened the next set of windows. She then turned back into the now better lit room.

"Clara?"

"Dad?" she sounded disgusted, unable to hide her revulsion. "What the fuck?"

Her father was lying in what Clara desperately hoped was a pool of beer and not a bodily fluid of some kind, the sofa filthy and almost rotting. The amount of takeaway boxes and beer bottles in the bins told the whole story. Her father had become a middle-aged American cliché dealing with a break up. Clara didn't even bother to try and cover up her distaste as she paced the room. Her father sat up and she looked him up and down. He hadn't shaved in weeks, he looked drunk and terrible.

"Sweetie," her father spluttered, barely cohesively. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow. Did I get the date wrong?"

"Yes dad," Clara replied angrily. "You got the date wrong. And frankly, I'm glad you did. Because we clearly have a much bigger problem!"

"We?" Dave sounded confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're my dad!" Clara cried exasperatedly. "And I love you. How can I possibly let you go on living like this?"

"Clara," Dave was slurring his words. "I can explain."

"You don't have to," Clara replied bluntly. "It's obvious what's going on. You're going through a bad period after your break up. But you need to get back on your feet. Now. Cold shower, go. And don't give me any sleep it off nonsense, get in the shower. Then, you're going to clean this mess up."

"Clara, sweetie."

"Daddy," Clara said gently. She hadn't called him that in a long time. "I love you, okay. That's why I'm doing this. You need to pull it together. So sober up, tidy up and I'll make you a nice mug of strong, sweet tea, okay?" She strolled over to him and kissed his cheek caringly, instantly regretting the decision and wishing that she had some mouthwash to hand. While her dad showered, she made two teas and took out the bins, desperate to at least start the cleaning process, so that he didn't feel like he was being punished.

After an hour of joint cleaning, they sat down on Clara's bed in the spare room, with the sofa in the lounge out of action. Clara would take the cushions to be dry cleaned the next day. Her father looked old and ashamed and she felt dreadful for him. She wrapped her arm around him and rubbed his shoulder.

"I didn't realise you were doing so badly," she admitted sadly. "Or I would have come up so much sooner."

"Don't be silly Clara," Dave smiled. "I'm your father; it's supposed to be my job to look after you. And I've done a crap job of that haven't I?" Clara blushed and shook her head frantically. "Look you have your own life now, with the Doctor. Go and be happy Clara, that's all I want from you. That's all your mother would ever have wanted for you."

"I thought you and Mandy were okay?" Clara said quietly. "How did this happen?"

"I'm not crying over Mandy Clara," her father replied with a heavy heart and Clara's mouth formed an 'O'. "I'm crying over the same person I've been crying over for nearly 10 years, the same person that I've spent my whole life crying for and over. The person I let down. The person I should have driven to work. If I had, she'd still be alive. And I've never stopped thinking about her, not for one day in nearly 10 years. Oh Clara, my Clara. I'm so sorry."

And he was crying now and Clara was sobbing beside him, unable to stop. She missed her mum too, more than anything, of course she did. And knowing that her father did, knowing that he still loved her more than anything except Clara herself, and knowing that he blamed himself for what had happened? It broke her heart.

"It's not your fault dad," she said, words she somehow knew she should have said earlier. Part of her wondered if she had blamed her father as well when she was younger. Those teenage years, the ones where she almost ended up in a gutter. She would have if not for the Doctor, probably.

"But what happened to you is my fault," he said fiercely and Clara didn't dare argue with him. "My baby girl, the most important person in my life. And I stopped showing you that. I stopped being the father that you needed, that your mother needed me to be for the both of us. And I let you go out and drink and do God knows what else. And when you were at uni…I just threw myself into Mandy, rather than think about you and what you were doing. I thought that the therapy would be enough, I thought it would fix you so that I didn't have to. So that I could focus on fixing myself. But here we are Clara. And you had to fix yourself, you had to make yourself okay. And I never could. I'm still here, I'm still broken."

"Dad," Clara said softly, and their eyes met. "It was never about being broken and being fixed. The minute I realised that, the second that I realised that all my problems were in my head, they got better. There's nothing wrong with us, we're not broken. We lost her. Both of us and we weren't there for each other. But we are now. We can be now. And you can realise what I realised, that we're people. We're human. We feel sadness and sorrow and loss and we don't know how to deal with it. But that doesn't make us Damaged. It makes us who we are."

"I love you Clara," he whispered. "And I'm never going to let you suffer alone, the way that you did for so long, because of me."

"You didn't take her away," Clara informed him, in a voice that was almost breaking. "You didn't kill her. The world did that. And you did your best, I know that. Maybe you didn't do as well as I'd hoped, but here we are. I'm okay and you're going to be okay. I can't imagine how I'd react to losing the Doctor. I don't know what I'd do, how I'd cope, even if we had a child. I don't know how I'd be able to look at that child and tell them that everything would be okay or that Daddy loves them. I'd want to drink and shut myself away from the world. What you had to do was impossibly difficult, don't blame yourself for not doing a perfect job."

"It shouldn't be this way round Clara," he reminded her and she elapsed into fresh tears at this. "I should have been the one caring for you, not the other way around."

"Well you weren't," Clara said promptly. "And this is what we've got. And I'm sorry Dad, but we're both going to have to cope with it."

And at that, she pressed her head onto his shoulder and they sat up for the rest of the night, crying and talking properly and about Clara's mother and, for the first time in years, Clara felt like she had a real father.

* * *

Clara woke long after noon, to the smell of frying sausages and her phone frantically buzzing. She fumbled for it and saw three missed calls from Annabelle. Clara swore loudly. It was the day that Annabelle's book needed to be in. If she didn't get it in on time, then there would be hell to pay. Clara sat up, blinking sleep out of her eyes and running a hand through her bed hair. She quickly thumbed the keypad to call Annabelle off but she didn't pick up. She was probably on the move, Clara realised or maybe in a meeting with her publishers. The reason her phone had been buzzing wasn't Annabelle's calls, which she'd managed to sleep right through, but a text from the Doctor. She smiled at the sweetness of it and texted a quick reply.

Her dad knocked on the door and she bid him enter. He did so, with an apologetic smile and a sausage sandwich lathered in ketchup. He hadn't made her one of those since she was a little girl. Clara gave him her warmest smile and tucked in; him sat on the edge of her bed, watching nervously.

"You've still got the touch dad," she reassured him and he let out a mock sigh of relief which earned him a giggle from his daughter. She was still smiling as she finished the sandwich and then she clambered out of bed, shooing him off so that she could shower and change. Clara felt ready to face the day and then she checked her phone to see if the Doctor had replied while she was in the shower. He had and it didn't look good.

_We need to talk about Annabelle xx_

* * *

The knocking on the front door grew steadily more frantic as the Doctor tumbled down the stairs, losing his footing at the top and rolling down to the bottom. He picked himself up and dusted himself down and shouted to the troubled visitor that he was indeed on his way. He wasn't expecting anyone and Clara was safely in Blackpool, if her text from the previous night was anything to go by. He straightened his bow tie and opened the front door, a smile erupting onto his face when he saw Annabelle and that smile only growing when he saw how happy she looked. She must have finished her book.

"Is Clara in?" she asked, her breath short and her demeanour excited. "I need to talk to her."

"No," the Doctor replied, eager to decipher Annabelle's mood. "She's up in Blackpool with her father until tomorrow, but you're more than welcome to talk to me. Clara thinks I need more practice with other humans anyway."

"Oh relax you, it's only me," Annabelle laughed, patting his arm gently as he showed her into the house and they sat down in the living room. "And yeah, that would be great. We don't talk enough anyway, considering you're fucking marrying my best friend. How's the wedding planning going?"

"It's not yet," the Doctor laughed. "Clara seems to think I'm underestimating how much effort it's going to take, but personally I think Clara's forgetting how annoyingly efficient I am when it comes to organising."

"Oh honey," Annabelle laughed patronisingly. "It's your wedding. Every single stupid little detail will have to be perfect. There is no way in hell that you can plan that off the cuff. No matter how efficient you are. So I'm guessing you'd already worked it out, but I finished the book! In time! The publisher has it now, how amazing is that?" She carried on talking before the Doctor could answer. "I mean, I'm so proud of it, I think that this book will be the one that really gets my writing career underway and I want you and Clara to read my first draft, because it is seriously amazing."

"What's the book about?" the Doctor asked quickly, desperate to get a word in and try to steer the conversation. Annabelle looked a Duracell bunny on cocaine, she was so hyper.

"It's about this teenage boy," Annabelle said with a smile. "And he finds his one true love and then she breaks his heart. So he spends the rest of his teenage years cut off from the world. Desperate to find another love. Except the world doesn't work that way. So he keeps on hunting and the harder he tries, the more the world beats him up. Until finally, he finds that there is more to the world than true love. He discovers the true meaning of friendship at university. And he resolves to spend the rest of his life helping his friends find their one true loves. But then, tragedy strikes and the boy has to sacrifice himself in the name of true love, so that his best friend can be happy. How does that sound?"

The Doctor had gone deathly pale. He quickly thumbed a text to Clara and he tried to recover his composure. Annabelle seemed completely oblivious. Maybe she genuinely had no idea or maybe she was completely in denial. But she had novelised Tom's life. Or at least: a version of it. A version from her point of view, the Doctor supposed. But this was seriously not good, he knew that much. Annabelle had taken Tom's death so much harder than he had and even to an extent more than Clara had, although Clara almost tore herself apart over it. Tom's death had made Clara who she was today, a teacher. It appeared that it had also inspired Annabelle. The Doctor's mouth opened and shut several times over. He smiled as best that he could but Annabelle was still just staring at him, as if expecting an answer and he didn't know what to give her. This was what Clara was normally good at, how the hell was he going to tackle this.

"Annabelle," he said quietly and Annabelle's eyebrow shot up. "This story, does it sound familiar to you? Does it remind you of anyone?" Her face had fallen now and she looked like she wanted to cry. The Doctor didn't know if he should proceed. What would Clara do? Clara would do the hard thing. And tell Annabelle the truth. "Does this story remind you of Tom?" he said as gently as he could.

Annabelle's face had completely collapsed, into a crumpling heap. Tears had started streaming down her cheeks and she nodded once, a soft motion but it was there. The Doctor bit his lip. He didn't know how to comfort her. He put his arm around her.

"Of course it is," she took a deep breath. "I just didn't want to admit it Doctor. To myself, and certainly not to Clara. She misses him too, as much as I do." The Doctor didn't doubt that. "I thought I'd moved on in my life, but I've not been intimate with anyone in five years and even this book, it just screams desperation. How can I move on from this?"

The Doctor didn't know. He didn't know what to say to Annabelle or how to say it. When you lost someone close to you, it felt like the world was caving in. It had been five years, but he still saw the look on Clara's face sometimes. Like she was remembering and it hurt. It had been nearly ten years since her mum passed and she still wasn't okay with that. Some things stayed with you forever. The Doctor would never forget Craig. He would never stop feeling guilty. He missed his own parents, hated himself for what he had done. But he couldn't tell Annabelle most of that, so he did what he could.

"The orphanage was hell for me," the Doctor said and Annabelle shot him an odd look. She knew about the orphan part of course, but she and the Doctor had never discussed it. "I mean it was terrible, truly the worst experience of my life. We all have our sufferings Annabelle, but do you know how I got through it?"

"How?" her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hope," the Doctor replied with a smile. "I kept telling myself that it wouldn't hurt forever. That there was nothing that the orphanage could do to me, hell nothing that the world could do to me that wasn't temporary. That and I had a good friend by my side every step of the way. Things will get better Annabelle, the second that you start believing that they will. You've been sat in your house, writing away your pain. But you're not any happy for it. Not yet. You need to get out there, Annabelle. Show the world that it can't beat you."

She looked at him, a peculiar look on her face. She kissed his cheek and he blushed and stammered as she laughed. The Doctor tried to compose himself and Annabelle punched his arm playfully.

"I can see why Clara loves you so much," Annabelle said. "You're great at advice giving. But don't tell Clara I said that, she'll never forgive me. She'll spout some crap about me inflating your already gigantic ego or something along those lines. But you really think it'll be okay? Do you think that I'll be okay?"

"No Annabelle," the Doctor replied, his voice warm and his smile genuine. "I think that you will be amazing."

* * *

Clara had texted an immediate reply to the Doctor, worry flooding through her. When he didn't reply immediately, panic started to give way to self-reassurance. The Doctor could handle whatever the problem was, couldn't he? The fact that he hadn't already replied implied that he was with Annabelle now, hopefully helping her. Clara tried to force herself to push it to the back of her mind as she joined her dad for a spot of shopping, trying to get his apartment to be less of a "small piece of Hell" as Clara referred to it. He had been offended by that but frankly she didn't care. He needed to sort his life out and step one of sorting his life out involved living in a place that wasn't conducive to rats and reminded Clara strongly of a serial killer's lair. Some nice furniture, maybe the occasional poster. Some working light bulbs would be marvellous, Clara had told him and he had rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. She had almost managed to forget about the existence of the text and if the Doctor had texted back, she hadn't checked, so immersed was she in the world of helping her father. It took her until the evening to actually check her phone again, when she had finally sorted out her father's flat so it at least somewhat resembled a liveable space.

_Crisis averted! Doctor out! xxx_

* * *

**_*And tomorrow: falling stepladders, teachers playing ping-pong and Harriet Jones.*_**


	8. Chapter 8: Miss Oswald

***Hey guys! Chapter 8 is here and this is one dedicated to Clara, or as we should call Miss Oswald. I wanted this to be light, fluffy, funny and heart-warming and I hope that I achieved all of those aims with this chapter. Chapter 13 is my task for the night but I should be able to pull ahead when I've finished all my god damned essays which are looming. So, I hope you guys love this chapter, please let me know what you think of it and as ever, thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! TPD***

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The day that Clara had been excited for. School was starting again. It was amazing how as a child, like so many other children her age, Clara had been desperate for school to end so that she could be free of it and when September rolled along, she would throw a strop, kick off her pink boots and sit on the stairs with her arms crossed, announcing she wasn't going to school that year. And then her mum would sit down next to her, stroke her hair gently and ask Clara to go, for her. And Clara would never be able to resist her mum's sad smile and gentle voice and she would put on her little pink boots, kiss her mum on the cheek and jump in the car. Later, after her mum had died, her dad had admitted that he would never have been able to manage it, but somehow her mum had managed it, almost every year until Clara was 11.

Only now, Clara was one teaching, warping the minds of 11 year olds and 15 year olds and 18 year olds, most of who all thought that books were boring and English was boring. Even the 18 year olds seemed to be doing it grudgingly, having long since realised that an English A-level was going to be hell. But Miss Oswald was the dream apparently. She saw year 8s high-five when they realised that they had Miss Oswald and two year 11s had written her a poem. It was a great first day back, all in all. Clara had a double with Year 11 first up and she had been warned by no fewer than three separate teachers about the state of her group. She had second set, which meant that they were bright, but not the very brightest. Aiming for Cs, Bs if she could manage it. But they all needed to pass, that were her prerogative. For Clara, grades weren't what mattered. Grades mattered in the sense that the kids needed Bs and Cs to go on to A-level and that her job hinged on not fucking up their futures, but at this age, Clara saw an opportunity to really get a handful of them seriously interested in literature and if nothing else, she wanted her pupils to feel like they were getting something out of her lessons, rather than just a grade.

To Clara, it didn't matter whether the kids were 11 or 15 or 18. Books were books and Clara loved them. She spent a lot of her free time when she wasn't with the Doctor reading and often when she was with him she read. It was nice to be able to sit in bed together in the evenings, not needing to have sex, just being able to sit there, her reading a new book, him either reading something she'd told him to read or something physicsy. It was fun reading next to the Doctor, because every now and then, one of them would make a book-related noise and the other would ask them about it and then if it was Clara, she'd end up spoiler warning him and if it was the Doctor, they'd end up in a ten minute conversation over a single plot point, during which Clara would have to hold her tongue over spoilers to come.

She loved him when he got like that, all enthusiastic and genuine. It was nice to be able to talk about the things she loved with the one person who understood her better than anyone. He could tell what would annoy her about characters, plots, before she'd have to say a word. Occasionally he'd just mutter: "Oh you hated that, I can tell!" or "This character is the one you keep screaming to just die already." And Clara loved that, their intimate connection felt more real when she realised how deeply ingrained it was within them.

Clara had thoroughly expected her Year 11 shits to be a nightmare, but it turned out, that whilst she had been warned about them, they had also been thoroughly warned about her. Miss Oswald was amazing, the best teacher you could ask for. Unless you pissed her off. Because Miss Oswald had a scary side, that barely anyone had seen but when she shouted, you shut up. Clara had been expecting a fight from them, every step of the way, but they were sweet as sugar for the most part and so was she as a result. Break was after that and Clara felt an overwhelming sense of pride as she got smiles and waves from one of the most vicious and mean-spirited year groups. A teacher friend of hers, Lenny, stumbled into Clara's classroom looking absolutely exhausted. Clara smiled warmly at him as he entered and he looked nothing short of bewildered.

"11.4," he said, almost whimpering. "Christ almighty, a double with them every Tuesday morning is going to be the death of me. If I can get half of them through GCSEs, it'll be a miracle. You look surprisingly happy," he didn't seem to be able to decide if he was shocked or disgusted. "What happened to 11.2? They're usually terrors, almost as bad as 11.3."

"They were okay," Clara replied, sipping her tea and trying not to enjoy herself this much. It wouldn't do if half the English department hated her for the fact that the students didn't. Lenny looked utterly perplexed, so Clara shrugged. "Maybe they were just lulling me into a false sense of security," she suggested. "But they were very well behaved."

Lenny shot her a funny look. "Are you Jesus?"

* * *

Clara had a single with the Year 9s, which was distinctly average and then a free, which we spent marking work from her Year 11 class, so that she was ahead of the game and could spend more time reading her new favourite book: _From Whence They Came_ by Harriet Jones, the former PM of Britain. Her thoughts were fascinatingly put to paper and Clara found her intricate knowledge of the political system made the entirely fictional world of politics she had created so much more engaging and gripping. She was whistling cheerily and flipping through pages when there was a knock on her door and she shouted for them to enter. It was the Head of Department. Clara dropped her pen and flushed as she straightened her dress, red and white polka dots. She hoped her hair was lying flat and Gemma, for that was her name, laughed in a friendly manner, instantly relaxing Clara.

"Relax Clara," she said warmly and Clara felt relaxed. "I'm not here to check up on you or scold you for anything. Not that I could find anything if I wanted to. Already marking? Blimey, I caught Jim and Lenny playing Ping-Pong in the lounge during their frees!" She sounded impressed and Clara felt herself smiling at this. "Anyway, I was worried about hurling 11.2 at you; normally a young teacher wouldn't get such a tough challenge." More compliments. "Frankly, I wanted to see if you would handle the pressure. You did not disappoint."

"Honestly," Clara was blushing now. "They were no trouble at all, I don't know what all of the fuss is about. They were perfectly pleasant."

"Exactly," Clara raised an eyebrow at this. "Clara, a very good teacher can handle the most troublesome of classes. A very good teacher can develop a reputation for handling a top class and pupils often see that as a challenge. But the best teachers? The best teachers make you not want to act up. The best teachers, can inspire good behaviour before their pupils have even stepped in the door. I've been wandering around the school today Clara, and I've heard mumblings. Mumblings that you want to be on Miss Oswald's good side. I don't know how you did it Clara, but the kids like you. They respect you. And I for one, am keeping an eye on you. You came to us with the highest recommendations, so I felt no guilt about handing you some tough classes last year. And now, well let's just say that you have lived up to expectations Miss Oswald and far exceeded them. You should be proud Clara. I've seen good teachers come and go, but I've rarely seen one get on the kids' good side as quickly. I know that impressing the kids is one thing and getting results is another, but I've always been of the attitude that with the kids working for you rather than against you, life becomes a hell of a lot easier."

Clara was practically glowing. She didn't know what to say. Gemma shot her another smile as Clara's mouth fell open and she spent several moments stammering. Her day couldn't get any better. She went to lunch in the best mood. She normally ate in her classroom or in the lounge with some of the other teachers, because the Doctor made the best lunches and she loved the little notes he'd throw in. But as it was Rose's first day, she'd promised to support her and go and eat in the canteen. In truth, as nice and healthy as the Doctor's lunches were, there were times when Clara absolutely craved greasy chips.

The canteen was packed. Clara always found it weird going there as a teacher rather than a student, especially as she could jump the queue. Rose was serving, a nervous smile on her face as she lathered beans over Clara's chips and shot her a wink.

"How's it going?" Clara asked quickly, trying not to hold up the line but desperate to get some news on Rose to report back to the Doctor. As disinterested as he pretended to be, the Doctor did care deeply for Rose, the same way he cared for everyone who entered his sphere. She shrugged.

"Okay so far," she replied. "Thank you so much again for hooking me up."

"Just be thankful I could," Clara laughed. "Frankly, I'm surprised I had any pull here at all, considering how little time I've been here. Text me later, let me know how the rest of your day goes."

And then she was gone, just another woman in white, stood behind the counter. Clara licked her lips at her food as she paid and found a table. She was surprised to see so many teachers littered among pupils and even more surprised by the amount of pupil/teacher table sharing. There were only a handful but it was a handful more than she was expecting. Lenny and Jim threw themselves opposite her. Lenny went to pinch a chip and Clara slapped his hand away. Jim laughed and Lenny looked indignant.

"I can see how you handled the 11s," Jim laughed. "Lenny's getting nowhere with stealing one chip, let alone trying to interrupt your lessons."

"Lenny has his jacket potato, it's not my fault he's trying to be healthy," Clara informed them, digging in and savouring the taste, her eyes sparkling. "Who won the table tennis?" she smirked and judging by their reactions, it wasn't the hapless Lenny. Jim's smug smile said it all.

"Who do you think?" he asked and Clara rolled her eyes. Jim was in his early 30s, with a suave and charming demeanour. Lenny was slightly younger, slightly skinnier and a lot less confident. Their friendship was an interesting one, Clara reasoned, but as the only two male under 50s in the English department it was also somewhat inevitable. She felt so young compared to most of the people she worked with, even Lenny and Jim had at least five years teaching experience on her. Lenny cursed under his breath and Jim frowned.

"What is it?" Clara asked, automatically concerned as she shot round, her head glancing in every direction.

"It's starting," Lenny said, apprehension but also glee in his voice and Clara's eyebrows reached her hairline. What was starting? "They do this every year," he added in a hushed whisper before Clara could question him. "The food fight to end all food fights. That's why a load of the kids are hiding next to teachers. Rule 1, if you hit a teacher, you're fucked."

"We're sitting in the middle of what is about to be a giant food fight?!" Clara hissed. "Why the hell didn't you warn me? Why are we still here?"

Jim shrugged and it was he who answered. "The kids won't hit us, especially not when we have the magical Miss Oswald at our table!" Lenny feigned a swoon. Clara swatted him. "Nah, we've got the best seats in the house to watch the carnage. Finish those chips quickly and get your tray up in case you need to make any last minute deflections. The kids will never aim for you, but bloody hell some of them cannot throw for shit."

Clara wolfed down the last few chips and grabbed her tray defensively, Lenny and Jim seemingly in formation opposite her. They had done this before, she didn't even need to ask. Jim was the most eagle-eyed and as the first few dollops of mash were thrown, he quickly identified where the main congregating areas would be. Their table was near the back of the room and the fight would probably go diagonally. Clara was worried about getting hit in the back of the head, so slid down a seat so that the wall was to her right directly and she could shift angle to see the whole room. Jim's prediction came true and the teachers who had been stupid enough to forget it was happening started diving for cover as it kicked off.

It wasn't like in films where some stupid idiot stood up and screamed food fight. Doing that painted a giant target on your back and was liable to get you suspended. Instead, it started gradually, building up almost to a rhythm. What startled Clara was that what few teachers were in the room had either followed their lead and taken up defensive positions, or were still eating, seemingly oblivious to the chaos. It was an organised chaos though. There was certainly an element of control and Clara was staggered by the efficiency of it.

"Why isn't anyone trying to break it up?" she asked innocently and Jim snorted at this.

"Why would we? It's tradition. And it's bloody hilarious. Look at that kid on the left, just got a full face of pasta, I thought his eyes were going to pop out. Oh and look over there, we had a bit of friendly fire, she just poured a bowl of custard over her friend. Clara, shield up, stray fudge cake at 11 o'clock."

Clara raised her tray and the cake splattered against it. She heard someone shout: 'Sorry Miss Oswald!' and then normal service was resumed. Jim had almost hawk-like vision as he gave a running commentary on the highlights, Lenny occasionally coming out with gem-like comments that had Clara in stitches. Over the course of the next twenty minutes, until the fight died down, Clara had to make three more quick-fire blocks, one of which she almost wasn't quick enough and tomato sauce splashed her. She cursed the fact that it was one of her favourite dresses but it would come out in the wash and it was worth it for all the fun she was having. The highlight was when a group of five dinner-ladies, including Rose, were naïve enough to try and stop it and were quickly repelled with a volley of baked beans and potatoes. Clara felt bad for laughing, but when Rose copped a face full of cold beans, Clara let out a small snort that she couldn't control and immediately felt guilty for. In amongst all of the mayhem, she got a text from the Doctor asking how her day was going and she replied that she was having the best day ever.

After lunch, she had with the fallout of the fight, which was the same as every year, throw a handful of the primary antagonists in detention and if anyone was really stupid, suspension, have an assembly saying that it couldn't happen ever again and then wait until next year. Then, Clara had double Year 13 in the afternoon. It would be pretty hard for her day to get better. Only 5 of them remained from her Year 12 class, Henry obviously amongst them. His bright smile relaxed her instantly and the way he played with his phone under the table made Clara think that maybe he had found someone to take his attention away from her.

Those two hours passed quickly enough, with Clara able to gush to her heart's content and the 13s frantically scribbling notes. At the end of the lesson, Clara was ready to go home, with just an hour or so to do some work and attend the after school meeting. She was on the home straight of one of the best days she'd ever had. And then Henry came up to her and she felt her heart hit her throat. Forcing herself to stay calm, Clara put on her best teacher smile.

"What can I help you with Henry?" she asked kindly.

"I just wanted to apologise for letting myself get too attached to you," he said with a small smile. "I'm seeing someone now, so hopefully that's all in the past. But also, because there was a book that I really wanted to recommend for you, return the favour you know? It's called _From Whence They Came, _it was written by Harriet Jones, Former Prime Minister."

Clara couldn't bring herself to tell him that she was already reading it, although she was touched by how well he had clocked her book sense. Instead, she just smiled and nodded and told him that she would look into it. And then, after one meeting and a fair bit of marking, she was free.

Clara found herself strolling home, the early evening sun just setting over the horizon. It had been the perfect day. Just the best day ever. She texted Annabelle, asking how Rose was doing and telling her about her amazing day. She was still running off of the high when she made it home and as her key slipped into the lock, she could hear the Doctor inside, no doubt up to no good. When she opened the door, she was hit by the smell of paint and the Doctor, who was on a stepladder, turned to stare at her, losing his control of the ladder. He toppled, a can of red paint flying through the air. Clara smartly dodged both the can and her falling fiancé, catching the stepladder and steadying it as the Doctor hit the floor and the can landed on top of his head, sticking there. Clara was taken aback for a moment but it only took a moment of shock before she started laughing hysterically.

"Clara?!" the Doctor cried. "I wasn't expecting you back for another hour. I was just redecorating the lounge, I was almost done as well. Listen Clara, I hate to be a pain…" he tried to remove the paint can from his head and failed miserably. "But this can appears to be stuck, is there any chance you could give me a hand?"

Clara needed a moment; because she was too busy laughing that she had momentarily forgotten to breathe. As she caught her breath, she took in the sight of her boyfriend, red paint slowly tricking down his white shirt, his already red bow tie slightly askew and his entire head hidden under the paint can, that didn't quite fit over his chin. She fell about into rolls of hysteria again, pounding the floor to try and stop herself from laughing but unable to breathe all over again. She was crying and the Doctor crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"Just…give…me…a…second!" Clara managed, slinging her bag onto the sofa, which was covered in white sheets and sitting down on the sheets to try and regain her composure. She just couldn't manage it and smiled weakly as the Doctor let out a small moan. After a couple of minutes, the laughter had died down and Clara prepared herself for two things. One, when that can came off, she would be hit by a fresh wave of hysterical laughing. Two, she was probably going to end up sprayed in pain. Ah well, her dress already had ketchup stains.

She walked over to the Doctor and instructed him to hold still as she yanked. Her first few tugs proved fruitless, as the can was well and truly wedged onto him. Clara frowned and pulled harder, her muscles screaming as she pressed her foot against the Doctor's thigh to gain leverage and he howled in pain. After a minute or so, Clara's arms were aching and the can finally came free. Clara fell backwards, colliding with the stepladder and both she, the ladder and the now empty paint can went flying, toppling in a heap, that sprayed Clara's dress as she had confidently predicted with flecks of red pain. She let out a small groan of pain as she sat up and then her other prediction came true as she saw the Doctor, his entire head soaked in layers of blood red pain and she was gone all over again, unable to stop hooting with laughter until he finally muttered something incomprehensible and raced off to the shower. Clara smiled to herself as she followed him. She gave him time to wash his face before she stepped out of her dress, unhooked her bra and followed him in.

"Good day?" he asked her as their naked bodies pressed together and they kissed lightly.

"The best," Clara replied.

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***Tomorrow: Mels, Marriage Counselling and Sisters***


	9. Chapter 9: Dinner at the Ponds

***Hello one and all! Another day, another chapter. This one is all about Amy and Rory, as we see a return to an unhappy Pond household. As ever, I really hope you guys enjoy it and don't hate me too much for this one! As ever, thank you so much to all my readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters, you guys are the best. Writing update: 14 should be done tonight. I'll probably lose some ground over the next couple of days because I have essays up to my eyeballs but I'm doing my best. And feel free to send in prompts to me, either here or on tumblr at whovianmachine. Thanks again. The Potter Doctor***

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Amy and Rory were hosting a dinner party. Clara and Rory had met for dinner on the Wednesday after she returned to work and he told her that that Saturday, there was going to a couple's dinner party. Clara and the Doctor, Amy and Rory and their childhood best friend Mels and her boyfriend Kyle. Clara had to admit that she was excited and Rory informed her to dress nice, as it was going to be a very grown up affair. Somehow, Clara found herself doubting that highly, but she was eager to comply with the dress code.

So she had wrapped the Doctor up in a nice black suit, despite his protestations and bought him a nice new bow tie to shut him up. Clara was wearing a skinny little black dress, which the Doctor's eyes boggled at when he saw her. It was all that he could take not to have sex with her there and then. Clara drove which proved to be a relief for both of them, because the Ponds house was near the end of the tube line and it was nice not to have to be able to get the train when they were both dressed so nicely. Clara parked up outside the house and knocked on the door, as the Doctor awkwardly juggled the bottle of champagne that they had brought with them. Amelia Pond opened the door, a broad smile on her face. The Doctor handed her the champagne and then she almost choked him with a hug, before turning to Clara.

"Clara!" she greeted cheerfully, kissing both of Clara's cheeks and pulling her into a slightly less bone-breaking hug. Clara stepped inside, dragging the Doctor behind her as he struggled to right his breathing. Rory was waiting inside and this time it was Clara's turn to have her back squashed as Rory hugged her, before giving the Doctor a firm handshake.

They made their way through to the dining room, where Mels and Kyle were already sat, smiling and waving to Clara and the Doctor upon entry. Clara smiled back and then they were sat down, engaging in idle chit chat as Amy excused herself briefly to check on the food. Rory shot Clara a look at this point, as the Doctor said he was going to the bathroom. Clara returned the look. They both knew what was going on and when the Doctor and Amy returned, it would be their turn to make excuses and get a private conversation. Rory had seemed happier on that Wednesday but Amy's naked calendar had gone ahead as planned. There was nothing explicit on there, but Rory felt uncomfortable and Clara could sense his discomfort a mile away. The Doctor had offered to buy the calendar out of solidarity. Clara had realised that he genuinely meant it as solidarity and not to ogle Amy, but she had still stamped out that idea before it got off the ground.

Mels was asking Clara about her own wedding plans, when it occurred to Clara that she hadn't told Rory that she and the Doctor were trying for a baby. She had contemplated it, but decided that she didn't want to get people's hopes up and she didn't want to have to deal with potential judgement. She was still young and some people would be less than impressed with her wanting to have a child before she and the Doctor were even married. Not that Rory or Amy would ever be those people. But they were both too career driven to have their own child yet, and their marriage didn't seem to be in a good enough place if Clara was being brutally honest with herself. She didn't want to feel like she was rubbing their relationship in the Ponds' faces.

Thankfully, at this point, Amy and the Doctor returned and Clara deflected the question onto the Doctor, as she wrapped her arm around him and nestled her head on his shoulder. Clara felt immensely guilty as she did this, because it only served to highlight, at least in her own mind, the difference between her and the Doctor, who were practically interlocked, and the Ponds, who were sat at opposite ends of the table, with their guests between them, smiling cordially but not making much eye contact with the other. Clara could sense the frostiness but she suspected that she was the only one. Kyle and Mels looked totally oblivious and the Doctor rarely picked up on things like this unless they were staring in the face, although Clara suspected he knew the problems anyway, Amy having no doubt unleashed all her marital woes on Clara's unsuspecting fiancé.

The Doctor whispered in her ear that Amy was going to lose her job and there was nothing she could do about it. He also knew that Rory didn't know yet. Clara could instantly sympathise with Amy. It must suck to know that you're losing your job and that your husband was having a go at you, justifiably or not about a job that she knew that she was losing. She did wonder why Amy hadn't told Rory but promised the Doctor with a small inclination of her head not to tell Rory what she knew. Clara giggled like a schoolgirl, as if the Doctor had whispered something childish in her ear and she swatted at him playfully, earning her a sufficiently convinced eye roll from Rory that told her he had bought it. Pre-dinner chat proceeded at pace and Clara offered to help with the starters, giving them a chance to talk in private.

"So, what's the issue?" Clara asked, not even needing to ask if there was one, Rory had made it perfectly clear that there was one with his behaviour and his general ice cold reaction to Amy.

"I couldn't get her mum's birthday off of work," Rory said with an accepted sigh. "Amy thinks that I'm doing it deliberately. Everything I do at the moment just seems to be some petty revenge tactic. Anyway, Amy's heading up to Leadworth without me, she's going to stay with her parents for a couple of days. I'd appreciate the company for a wine and movie night if you fancy it?"

"Throw me the dates and I'll check my calendar," Clara responded, pulling the chicken wings out of the oven as Rory stirred the homemade BBQ sauce. "So every little thing is just turning into a battle, is that it?"

Rory shrugged. "Pretty much. We're constantly at each other's throats. She's been even angrier at me in the last two weeks or so and I have absolutely no idea why. I'm trying my hardest to keep things calm but I'm not letting her push me around on every issue. I've had enough of always having to be the one to back down."

Clara did not want to say what she was thinking. She bit her lip so hard it was almost bleeding as she served out the wings and Rory was watching her carefully. She couldn't say it, she would break his heart.

"Clara?"

"Rory," Clara took a deep breath and then took the plunge. She was Rory's best friend. She had to say what she was thinking, even if he hated her for saying it. "Do you not think that if the only thing that was keeping you guys happy was you not having a backbone, then do you really belong together? If you refusing to let Amy push you around is driving your marriage into difficulty, then maybe the two of you need to take a good long look at the state of your marriage."

Clara hated herself for saying it, but Rory didn't react much. He just smiled sadly and bowed his head. He poured the sauce over the wings and added some salad in silence and then grabbed a couple of plates. Clara thought he was going to walk out of the room without saying another word to her, but then he set down the plates and touched her arm gently.

"You don't think I've been asking myself the very same questions every day for the last few weeks?" he said quietly and Clara could hear his heart break when he said it. She whipped round, pulling him into a fierce hug and then she reached up to kiss the top of his head. At this point Amy walked in, looking immediately deflated and hurt when she saw this. Clara winced.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" she asked, trying to keep the upset out of her voice as she walked over to Rory, clearly making an effort to get something back from him.

"Nothing at all Amy," Rory replied, just a touch coldly and Clara bit her lip again, grabbing her and the Doctor's starters and scuttling back to the dining room as the Ponds grabbed the rest of the starters and followed her. The Doctor seemed slightly oblivious to what had just happened as he smiled warmly at Clara and complimented Amy on her wings. By this point, however, Mels had clocked the odd looks that Amy and Rory were shooting each other and shot Clara a questioning look. She just shrugged in reply.

It was dessert where everything kicked off. Kyle complimented Amy on her crème brulee and Amy thanked him for it, before Rory piped up, much to Amy's chagrin, with: "Actually, I made it."

"Well thank you Rory," Amy said, with a smile. "But not everything is about you. Just once, you could let someone else take the credit for something."

"Well seeing as I made it, it would be pretty unfair of you to try and take the credit," Rory replied, as cheerfully as he could whilst stabbing his food with his fork. Clara and the Doctor exchanged a look and Clara quickly gunned to change the topic but it was too late.

"Well marriage is a partnership Rory," Amy snapped, losing her cool. "It wouldn't hurt just to act like it and not completely undermine me at every point."

"That's a little rich," Rory shot back, by which point the Doctor and Clara were almost on their feet and shouting interruptions. "Coming from the person who does nothing but undermine me…"

At this point, Clara thundered her fist down on the table and everyone sat around the table, whose heads had been shifting between the Ponds, turned to look at her.

"You two," she shouted. "Kitchen. Now. If you're going to have a domestic, go and have a domestic. But if you can both be civilised human beings for just a few more hours, then maybe we can all enjoy this evening. Now clearly, you two have some real fucking issues, but maybe screaming bloody murder at each other over the dinner table isn't the best way to solve it. And you, stop looking like you want to have me on the table right now," she turned to the Doctor with more than a hint of a smile. "Patience Chin, keep it in your pants for a few more hours."

Everyone shut up at that. Mels was looking at Clara with some sort of bizarre pride, Amy and Rory looked ashamed more than anything and the Doctor still had that look in his eye, like he would give his right hand to have sex with Clara right there and then. She rolled her eyes and planted a big and long kiss on his lips to sustain him and then she sat back down, slightly embarrassed. Amy and Rory's eyes locked and they seemed to be in agreement as they shut up and focused on their dessert. The Doctor nudged Clara playfully with his shoulder and she blushed.

"Nice work super teacher," he whispered and Clara blushed. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Well," Clara replied in a hushed undertone. "I might be a super teacher, but I'm no marriage counsellor and I think that right now, these two could use a marriage counsellor more than they could use a teacher. I'm really worried Doctor, they're seriously on edge."

"I can tell," he replied, unhappily. "Vastra and Jenny had some problems a few months back, they saw a great guy for a while. I'll see if I can get his number and give it to Amy. You might need to talk to Rory though, I can't see Amy going for it of her own accord. She's very…"

"Stubborn?" Clara asked with a smirk. The Doctor pulled a face at this. They had to speak very quietly, as nobody else at the table seemed to be talking. At this point, thankfully, Kyle started asking the Doctor about work and the topic shifted into more comfortable territory.

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passed without incident, which was a relief for everyone involved. But the tensions between Amy and Rory were bubbling beneath the surface and they could explode at any moment. Clara and the Doctor were more than thankful to get out of there, giving their respective goodbyes and finally able to relax once they were out the door. But no sooner had the door closed on them, than Clara could hear the shouting behind her. She bit her lip, she'd chewed on it so much that evening that she considered it a miracle that she wasn't bleeding. The Doctor shot her a worried look.

"You'd better get the number for that marriage counsellor quickly," Clara said sadly.

"Unfortunately," the Doctor replied. "I think you might be right…"

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Amy was upset. Rory was sleeping in the spare room again, telling Amy in no uncertain terms that his dignity meant that there was no way in hell he was going to sleep on a sofa for her. More than anything, Amy missed Rory. She missed her Rory, having him around every minute of every day, being able to laugh with him and joke with him and poke fun at the Doctor with him. But it was as if Rory had gone, replaced by a scowling, short tempered version of himself who refused to let Amy off the hook. And likewise, Amy herself had been replaced by a snarling, uncaring version of herself. She hated every moment of it and she didn't even know what it was that they were fighting about. She resolved to tell Rory that she was losing her job, but the truth was that she was scared. She was scared that he would no longer care or worse, be happy that she had. He had never liked the fact that she was paid to strip off in front of other blokes and she couldn't blame him entirely. But her snarling, vicious side had made an appearance and Rory had never really forgiven her. It wasn't even about that any more. They had fought about so much, as much to do with his job as hers, that she didn't even know how it had escalated so much so quickly. She just wanted Rory back. More than anything. But she wasn't sure if that was possible.

Amy cried herself to sleep that night and woke up the next morning, feeling wretched. Rory looked like a stone statue and she wrapped her arms around him, desperate for him to give some clue that he still loved her. He nestled his head against her shoulder, the only reciprocation he gave and after a moment he sidled out of her grasp.

"I've got to go to work," he said flatly. "We can talk when I get back."

"Rory," Amy called after him and thankfully. "Do you still love me?"

It was the question that she had been terrified of asking, unable to hear the answer, knowing that if he said no, then he would break her into a million pieces and she would never be able to put herself back together again.

"Of course I do Amy," he replied without a moment's hesitation. "But I'm just not sure that that's always enough."

She wished that she'd kept her mouth shut. Rory shut the door behind him and Amy left herself hit by a fresh wave of tears. She called the Doctor, who was on her doorstep within the hour. Amy cried on his shoulder for a while and then when he left, she called her sister. Not many people knew that Amy had a sister, because they were only half-sisters, from her mother's former marriage. But Amy needed someone to talk to who wasn't the Doctor, because all he did was comfort her and say nice things. He was bloody useless at practical advice. And besides, Amy knew, he couldn't give his all, because he and Clara had their bloody neutrality pact. Amy didn't blame him of course; the last thing that she wanted in the whole world was to drag the Doctor down with her. Especially because she knew how much he loved Clara and she could see why. Clara was one hell of a girl.

The Doctor, Rory and Mels were the only people outside of her family that knew about her sister and Amy was glad that it was that way. She didn't want Kyle or Clara to know, for various reasons. Her parents rarely spoke of her either, because the breakup between her mum and her previous husband went very badly and Amy's sister had grown up with her father, who at the time had been much better equipped to care for a child, as much as it broke her mum's heart. The knock at the door told Amy that her sister had arrived and she let out a breath that she didn't even know that she had been holding. She tied up her red hair and went over to the door. There was a warm smile on her face as she embraced her sister.

"Amy! It's so good to see you. I'm glad you called Sweetie."

"Thanks River, I really need your help."

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***And tomorrow: Appendicitis, Coffee Tables and Frozen Peas***


	10. Chapter 10: The Broken Coffee Table Saga

***Hey true believers! Good news! I have finally figured out two or three plotpoints that were really pinning me under a bus, so I know exactly what's going to happen from here on out (sort of). Anyway, today's chapter is the broken coffee table saga and features a proper fight, which was hilarious to write, I hope you like it. As ever, thank you so so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! You guys are the best. Keep on letting me know your thoughts and I'll see you guys tomorrow. TPD***

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Clara was thundering around, desperately looking for mascara or some nonsense like that. The Doctor returned to his work, trying hard to ignore the adorable curses or heart-warming screams of agitation that his fiancée emitted when she was frustrated. He scratched his head at a particular problem with the exhaust valve of the engine that he was designing, inspiration far from hard hitting. Then, she tumbled into his office, cursing and spluttering. He glanced at his watch, it was just gone 8.

"You'd better get going Soufflé Girl," he said without looking up. "You're going to be late."

"Well aware!" Clara shouted back. "But my hair is still a mess and I can't find my mascara."

"It's pissing it down," the Doctor replied carelessly. "Your hair and makeup will look horrific however hard you try, you might as well give up now and try to make it on time."

In retrospect, he would be able to pinpoint exactly three places where he earned the slap to the back of the head that followed his comment. He snaked an arm around Clara and pulled her into a gentle kiss, earning him a gentle massage of the area she'd whacked.

"Sorry," she said gently, kissing it better. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied with a smile. "Go get them Miss Oswald!"

"Don't forget, Vastra and Jenny are coming over at 2, you don't want to put music in and leave them out in the pouring rain for another hour!" Clara laughed. "Especially as you need to get that marriage counselling number for the Ponds off Vastra. She won't be inclined to help you out if you let the sky piss all over her day. Also, don't cook dinner for me; I'm meeting Annabelle after work. She called me last night in a right mess; I couldn't make out half the words."

"You really don't think much of my memory do you?" he frowned and Clara raised an eyebrow. "Of course I remember you're meeting Annabelle and I've got the girls."

"You were asleep when Annabelle called," she pointed out and the Doctor's mouth opened and closed again as he tried to think of a witty retort. He was about to resort to shut up when she leaned forward and kissed him lightly, before rushing out the office, shouting goodbye as she took the stairs two at a time to make it out the front door in seconds and then the Doctor was alone with only the hum of his laptop penetrating the silence that fell. He always hated this moment. The moment right after Clara had left and he felt truly alone in the universe, even though he knew in his heart of hearts that she would come back.

The Doctor worked all morning, barely leaving himself time for a sandwich. He eventually made something to keep himself going, the coffee machine in his office working overtime as he more and more became one with his chair. He straightened his bow tie around noon, after catching his reflection. He thought about texting Clara, but she would be in class for another hour or so, so he didn't bother. There was a time where he was so desperate to speak to her that he would text her every second of every day and damn the consequences. But then she had grown up and he had been forced into adulthood with her, kicking and screaming. He saw her every morning and every evening, they slept together every night and woke up together every morning. They often met for lunch and texted every day. He could wait the hour until her lunch break. The childish impatience in him was being stifled. He was content though. He trusted Clara completely, she didn't need him badgering her and checking up on her.

Just as the Doctor managed to push all thoughts of Clara from his mind, his phone buzzed and she had texted him. He smiled at the thought and flipped open his phone, laughing at his fiancée's words.

_Set the kids a DVD to watch. Thought I'd check in on my brainiac. I'm marking test papers and just seeing your words light up on a phone is infinitely more attractive a prospect. I love you (duh) xxx_

The Doctor thumbed a quick reply, explaining that temporal dynamics were giving him a headache and he'd give anything to be with her, watching the movie with a bunch of thirteen year olds. His phone buzzed almost immediately. Sure enough, the next two hours or so was the least productive period of his day, as Clara interrupted his thought process every thirty seconds or so. He didn't mind, he would catch up. He loved that she thought of him, the way that he always thought about her.

Luckily for him, the ending of Clara's lunch hour, which was right after her film hour, coincided with when he had to go onto radio silence as well, for Vastra and Jenny had come a knocking. Strax sometimes joined them and sometimes worked on his own thing, it didn't really bother the Doctor either way. Today, however, Jenny was alone and she stalked into the house, as if she wanted to be anywhere else. The Doctor opened his mouth to say something but she shot him a look that silenced him instantly. He could tell that she had been crying and her hair was escaping the tight knot that it was customarily wound up in.

"Not in the mood!" she said quickly and the Doctor held up his hands in apology and defence. Jenny let out a heavy sigh and the Doctor invited her to sit down while he made her a coffee. "Vastra is ill," she stated and the Doctor nodded appreciatively. "I mean, we're not having more problems or anything. I wish we were," she added and then caught herself. "I'm sorry sir, this isn't professional."

"Jenny," the Doctor said, handing her the coffee. "You and Vastra know that you guys are always welcome to talk to me about anything. I consider you more than just colleagues. You two are friends and if Vastra is ill then I'm sorry that I didn't realise sooner. You should take the day off, I can get a replacement accountant for a few days."

"With respect," Jenny sniffed, accepting the coffee and gulping it down. "There's no accountant that you could hire that knows the figures as well as I do. I'm fine, really. Vastra will be fine, the hospital are hopeful for a full recovery…"

"Hospital?" the Doctor was on his feet now and Jenny winced. "Jenny, why didn't you say anything?"

"It's just appendicitis," Jenny waved it off. "She'll be out in a couple of days, I promise. I'm stressing myself out over it too much. I just…her appendix burst and I thought she was going to die and I sat in that hospital room crying and I didn't know who to call or what to do." Jenny was crying now. The Doctor's hands hovered awkwardly before eventually he put one around her in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. "So I sat there alone, not knowing what I was going to do and then they told me that she'd be fine, completely fine and that there was no harm done. It was as if my whole world just started again, you know?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "I do." He'd had the same experience, when he thought he'd lost Clara, when he found out that Tom had died. He'd thought it had been Clara who had died in the accident and for one horrible moment, his life was over. It was only when Annabelle had told him that Clara was fine that his heart had started beating again. "Better than anyone."

"Anyway," Jenny tried to behave as though nothing was bothering her, but the Doctor knew that she wasn't fine. Nevertheless, it would be good for her to take her mind off the inevitable ending of human life and the knowledge that everything we love has to die sometime. It would do Jenny no good to sit around at home moping, waiting for visiting hours to see Vastra. At least here, she could throw herself into work and ignore her pain for a few solid hours. "Last month's figures were promising, but there are still several areas for improvement. Strax highlighted a couple of areas where security needs upgrading, so that should set us back…"

* * *

After several hours of various, accountancy related discussions, the Doctor tried to prise Jenny for the number of her marriage counsellor. He then spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince her not to tell Vastra that she had given it to him. Jenny was the sort of woman who tried not to involve herself in other people's business and would never ask the Doctor questions about why he needed the number of a marriage counsellor. Her wife however, was the sort of woman who would ask the Doctor every question under the sun if she suspected for a millisecond that there was something going on to cause him and Clara problems. Vastra was more direct and abrupt than Jenny, but when she cared about someone, often this could be to their advantage. Nevertheless, the Doctor did not want to have to fend off questions about the stability of his and Clara's relationship. They weren't even married yet for crying out loud. In any case, the less people that knew about Amy and Rory's marriage problems the better and it was, in all honesty, absolutely none of Vastra's business. His relationship might be a concern for her, but the Ponds was not.

With Jenny on her way, the Doctor decided to call it a day and made himself some dinner, aware that Clara wouldn't be back for another hour or two, maybe even longer depending on how badly things went with Annabelle. If the blonde was in a real state, Clara could end up pulling an all-nighter. The Doctor was in no mood to be fancy, so went standard, fish fingers and custard. Clara would never approve of fish fingers and custard, nor would she ever eat it, so it had to be shelved for those evenings when he was eating alone. It was a delicacy, a treat that he alone enjoyed, on rare occasions, when Clara was nowhere to be seen. Amy sometimes indulged his passion for it, but even that was sparing and Clara always scolded her for letting him.

He was halfway through eating when someone pounded on his door. The Doctor frowned and dropped a half-eaten fish finger back into the bowl. He wasn't expecting guests and whoever was banging on the door sounded angry, such was the intensity with which they were hammering away. He grabbed a chair, slightly defensively and approached the door cautiously. He opened it quickly, brandishing the chair defensively. It was Ten. Relaxing, the Doctor sighed in relief and put the chair down.

"Ah thank God it's only you Ten," he chuckled. "I thought someone might be here to-"

The Doctor was interrupted as Ten punched him in the face. The Doctor stumbled back into the house and Ten strode inside, shaking his hand and grimacing in pain. He looked half apologetic, half apoplectic and the Doctor didn't need to ask to know exactly why his cousin was so furious. There was only one even remotely reasonable explanation and he waited for Ten to start talking.

"Is Clara here?" he asked, his voice cracking. The Doctor shook his head. "Good."

At this point, Ten hit him again and the Doctor groaned in pain as his head snapped back. He cricked his neck as Ten held his hand in agony, trying hard not to show the pain on his face.

"Can I borrow an ice pack?" he asked, holding up his hand and the Doctor gaped at him incredulously. "So I heard a rumour, from Jake. You remember Jake?" Ten growled. "My mate from university. He's been kicking about the place lately. Well we met for lunch and he asked me if I knew that Rose was back in town. And funnily enough, I did not know Rose was back in town. The question is Doctor, did you know Rose was back in town?"

"Rose is back in town?" the Doctor knew winding up his cousin was a bad idea but he was still annoyed about the two punches. He threw Ten an ice pack that he caught left handed and pressed to his hand as the Doctor pulled another ice pack out and pressed it to his flaming jaw, the pain rushing through him sharply pressed into focus. "I had no idea."

"That's funny," Ten said, dangerously close to losing it, the Doctor could tell. "That's really funny. Seeing as she's a dinner lady at Clara's fucking school! I wonder how the fuck she got that job. Any thoughts cousin? Any ideas? Any at all?"

"Maybe she just looks good in a hairnet?" the Doctor responded, in no mood to indulge Ten.

"Don't play dumb Doctor," Ten snapped. "It doesn't suit you. We both know that you know as well as I do that Rose is back and that she's working with Clara and that she's living with Annabelle. Oh don't look so shocked, when I heard she was back in town I did a little digging. You know how good with computers I am. You helped her set up a life here and you did it behind my back. We're cousins Doctor, you're the only family I have left and Clara is probably the closest thing I have to a best friend. How could the two of you do this to me?"

"Do what to you?" the Doctor responded, no longer playing dumb and taking the offensive. "I didn't do anything to you David, I did what I could to protect you. Rose was homeless Ten. She pitched up in London, penniless because of Mickey, looking for her mother so she could have somewhere to stay until she was back on her feet. But Jackie Tyler is dead Ten. Did you know that? Do you even care? Would you make me leave her on the streets to die? Would you ask me to ask Clara to do that? I share your reluctance to have anything to do with her but Clara Oswald is a better person than both of us and she insisted that we take Rose in and give her food and shelter. So yes, we got her a job and yes she's living with Annabelle, or would you rather that neither of them could ever afford the rent?" Ten was looking fairly ashamed now. "Should I have told you about this sooner? Yes. But did it hurt, you not knowing?"

"I had a right to know!" Ten shouted. "You should have just given her some money and sent her on her way, not kept her here, under my nose!"

"Not everything is about you!" the Doctor yelled in response. "For fuck's sake, you selfish, egotistical bastard, I wasn't about to throw her out on the streets with a fucking wad of cash was I you prick?"

"Why not?" he retorted. "Since when did you develop a conscience? Since when did doing things wrong bother you? This from the boy who killed his own parents but seems to feel no remorse for that whatsoever!"

The Doctor was so angry, he stopped thinking straight. He threw himself at his cousin, returning the favour for the punches Ten had thrown. Ten staggered back, but before he could recover, the Doctor rugby tackled him, and they crashed through the coffee table in the lounge, it splintering as the weight of the two men crunched down on top of it. The Doctor got a decent shot in before Ten rolled out of the way and the Doctor's fist found wood, causing him to curse in pain. Ten kicked the Doctor in the chest and the Doctor rolled to a standing position. He had taken so many kicks to the ribs that he was pretty sure every rib in his cage knew what it was like to be broken. He could handle that.

Ten was breathing heavily, but the Doctor wasn't done. He had let his anger consume him and he crashed into his cousin again, this time toppling the pair over, taking the sofa with them. It flipped over and they rolled with it, their sophisticated fight now little more than a brawl as they grappled, hurling insults at each other and trading face punches. Eventually, after far more hurtful words and hurtful fists than either of them were willing to admit, they rolled off of each other, inhaling deeply and groaning in pain. Ten was within reach of an ice pack and pressed it to his bloody face, letting out a small noise of pleasure as the freezing cold soothed his blows.

"I'm sorry," he said after an age. "That was completely uncalled for."

"What part?" the Doctor snapped. "The brawl or the comment about my parents? How the fuck did you find out anyway?"

"My parents told me," Ten replied quietly. "They found out what had happened, they always knew. So I always knew, even before I met you. I didn't want to say anything. I figured, if you were ever going to tell anyone…if you ever wanted me to know, then you would tell me. I didn't want to intrude. I assume the only other person that knows is Clara?"

"And the Master," the Doctor reminded him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my parents and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Rose."

"Don't be," Ten urged. "It was my fault. Why does it matter if she's here? I'm happy with Martha. I don't need to be thinking about her. I can just pretend that she doesn't even exist. You were right, there was absolutely no need for me to know. And you were right to help her. Whatever went down between Rose and me, you and Clara are good people, and it was wrong of me to ask you not to help someone who desperately needed it."

It took them a long time to pick themselves up and throw themselves, side by side, onto the sofa that hadn't been toppled, Ten utilising two ice packs, one either side of his face and the Doctor pressing the biggest bag of frozen peas he could find to his face, so that his entire face was covered by it. At this point, Clara walked in, surveying the carnage that was her living room and frowning at the two grown men who strongly resembled five year old children as they sat on the sofa, awaiting their scolding.

"Are you serious?" she asked, dropping her work bag to the floor and crossing her arms, her eyebrows shooting up as if she couldn't for the life of her believe what she was seeing. Ten squirmed like a child and the Doctor hid behind his peas. "David? Really? And you, stop hiding behind the peas, they're for dinner not for you to shield your bloody face."

"He started it!" they both shouted, pointing at each other, as the Doctor dropped his pea shield. Clara threw her hands up in frustration and let out a scream of anguish.

"I am not dealing with this!" she pointed her finger antagonistically at them. "You!" she pointed at the Doctor. "Clean up your face before you even think about getting into bed tonight! And before you ask: no, Annabelle is not even remotely fine and I do not want to talk about it. And you!" she pointed at Ten. "You owe me a new coffee table. And before _you _ask: Rose is absolutely fine thank you very much and I will tell your fiancée if you go within twenty feet of that house or my school."

"How did you…"

"What, you two just randomly decided to have a massive fight and trash the living room?" Clara asked incredulously. "I don't think so. So obviously, either this idiot told you about Rose or you found out on your own and came over here to deliberately trash my living room. Either way, I don't care anymore. I've had a lousy day, so for the love of God, sort it out between yourselves. I'm sick of having to mediate everything in everybody's life."

And before either of them could respond, Clara had stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door so loudly that the whole house shook. Ten and the Doctor shared a look. It was a look of apology and pity and so much more. And then, with no more words spoken, they hugged, like brothers, as opposed to cousins at war.

* * *

***And tomorrow: Someone ends up a hedge, there's some massaging and the return of Captain Jack Harkness in: The Jack Method!***


	11. Chapter 11: The Jack Method

***Hey troops! Bad news, my lead has been cut significantly down to 3 chapters. Good news, I know where I want to go and once I've finished my essays, which will be tomorrow, I have free reign to let loose and I'm hoping to write loads this weekend. Also, my bad on the titling for the last chapter, I've fixed it now. This is Chapter 11 and this is in fact, The Jack Method. It picks up where chapter 10 left off and I really hope that you guys enjoy it. Please please let me know what you think of it and, as ever, thanks a huge amount to everyone who has and keeps on reading, reviewing, following aaannnd favouriting, I know I say it everyday but I mean it everyday :) TPD***

* * *

To say that Clara was in a bad mood was an understatement. The Doctor slunk up to the bedroom after Ten left and slipped in alongside her. She was sitting up; staring at a book, but it looked as if nothing was going in. After ten minutes on the same page, she turned to the Doctor, glaring at him.

"Stop watching me read!" she accused. "I can't concentrate."

The Doctor held his hands up defensively, and Clara's glare was quivering, before eventually shooting up into an adorable little smile, and she quickly hid her face behind her hair to save face. She couldn't stay mad at him and they both knew it. In truth, she wasn't really mad at him and they both knew that as well.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor said after a moment and Clara paused at this.

"So am I," she replied. "I was hard on you. We've both had bad days it seems. Want to tell me about it and then I'll tell you about mine?"

"You remember Jake, Ten's friend from uni?" She nodded. "Well he saw Rose was back and working with you at the school, so he asked Ten about it. Ten came over and was slightly angry to say the least." Clara bit her lip at this. "He threw a couple of punches, I held back. Then, it turns out he knew about my parents' deaths being my fault all along. And he said I showed no remorse for it and had no conscience."

At this point, Clara made a small noise. It was mainly shock, but anger and pity were there too. Her eyes, her soft brown eyes, were swimming and she was looking at the Doctor like she could hardly believe what she was hearing. She covered the short gap between them in an instant and pulled the Doctor into her arms. He seemed relatively okay with it, considering. She pressed a long, intimate kiss onto the corner of his mouth and then stared deeply into his eyes.

"It's alright," the Doctor reassured her. "I mean, I got so angry I threw him through our coffee table, but it's okay. He didn't mean it, I know he didn't. He realised that he was completely out of order as soon as he said it, I could see it in his eyes. And he's forgiven us for not telling him about Rose, he completely understands why we didn't. Truth be told, I'm more worried about him. I'm worried that he won't be able to get Rose out of his head. It's not as if things with Martha are peachy anyway. I worry that the closer we get to the wedding, the more likely Rose is to pop up and put ideas in his head."

"That's his choice," Clara replied tentatively and she and the Doctor shared a look. They were both thinking the same thing. That they had no right to tell Ten that he shouldn't throw away what he had with Martha, but the truth was, he was happy and he did have a good relationship. Rose's return would be unfair to Martha and if Ten and Martha were going to work as a couple, it wouldn't be fair of Rose to undermine that. But it was still up to Ten.

"What do we do?" the Doctor asked.

"Nothing," Clara replied solemnly. "We let Ten make his own decisions from here on out. It wasn't necessarily fair of us to keep Rose's reappearance from him in the first place, regardless of whether we had his best interests at heart. Rose herself, as I said, is doing great. She's still job hunting, and I think she has a couple of interviews lined up."

"So what about Annabelle?" the Doctor asked probingly, ready to wince as he worried Clara might be angry or worse upset. She shot him a look that showed that it was bad and she chewed increasingly on her lip. The Doctor touched her arm gently. It was a light tough, but enough to induce a smile from Clara. The smile then swiftly faded.

"She had a meeting with her publisher. They hated the book. Absolutely loathed it. She's going to have to start from scratch and find herself a new publisher because they're done with her. She's been late at every step and now the final product is poor. Apparently her writing style was all over the place and the ideas thrown in were haphazard at best. Her confidence is completely and utterly shot. It doesn't help that the book was about Tom. If publishing it was a step in her development, then she's going backwards and I don't know what to do about it. I read the book Doctor…"

"I read it too. It was awful. Truly terrible. I know writers normally produce good things with pure emotion but I don't know if Annabelle was high or…"

"Christ," Clara muttered. "Supportive friends we are. Between judging Ten for things he hasn't even done yet and crucifying Annabelle's book, we're pretty much on a roll. Next thing you know, we'll be slagging off the Ponds. Doctor, I hate this. I feel like I need to be doing more to help Annabelle but there's nothing I can do. She won't accept our help or our money, not that I'd just want to throw money at her anyway. Maybe if we commissioned her to do a piece, you must have something important that you need a writer for or…"

"Clara!" the Doctor placed a hand on each shoulder and she buried her head into his chest. "Don't blame yourself for any of this. You can't help everyone. Ten will do the right thing, you'll see. He'd never cheat on Martha and he has more than enough dignity to go crawling after Rose. As for Annabelle, she needs to find her own way in the world. She just needs to get a measure of control and then her writing will be back on form. She'll show those publishers what they're missing out on, you'll see!"

Clara didn't look even remotely convinced as she removed her head from the Doctor's chest, a perplexed look strewn across her face, her eyebrows knitted and her lips wide. The Doctor kissed the top of her head lovingly. He decided not to tell her about Vastra. Not only did Clara have enough on her plate worrying about Annabelle, but Vastra was much more the Doctor's friend than Clara's and he wasn't sure that Jenny would want Clara to know. She had been reluctant to tell even the Doctor, who suspected that she was more worried about Vastra than she had let on. He promised himself that he would visit the hospital the next day, on his way back from seeing Amy.

Sleep that night came fitfully and whenever the Doctor woke, he could feel Clara stirring next to him, her sleep equally troubled. It did not do well, he told himself, to dwell on the worries of others. Nevertheless, he still struggled to sleep. When the morning rolled around, Clara had finally fallen into a deep sleep. The Doctor was half tempted to call the school and tell them that she had fallen ill but he knew that she wouldn't be impressed. He let her lie-in nevertheless, waking her with a cup of tea and breakfast in bed, her bag for the day already packed with everything she'd need, her lunch made and her clothes for the day lying on the end of the bed. All she needed to do was shower and dress. Clara promised to thank him properly later as she wolfed down her bacon pancakes, but the look in her eyes when she realised what he'd done was more than enough for the Doctor. He just loved to see Clara happy.

When she had left for school, the Doctor worked until 1pm, knocking out a good four hours of work, which for him, meant that he was entitled to a long break. He went to check on Amy, who was on her lunch break at work, with less than two weeks until she had worked her notice. She seemed happier that day and they were able to talk about Rory without Amy tearing up. It seemed that they had resolved to work things out and she almost crushed him, so big was the hug that she gave him when he gave her the marriage counsellor's number. He had expected stubborn Amy resistance, but he realised that her love for Rory exceeded anything else and she was willing to do whatever it took to keep him. He understood that as well as anyone. He would do anything for Clara, and if that meant a weekly humiliation in front of a third party then that was a small price to pay. The Doctor just hoped Rory felt the same as Amy on that front.

After seeing Amy, the Doctor resolved to check in on Vastra. Luckily, he'd arrived during visiting hours and she was awake, so it gave him the chance to talk to her and check up on her. Vastra seemed fairly comfortable and insisted, like Jenny before her, that she would be out in a couple of days. The Doctor was unsure whether to believe her, but her chart and nurse both said appendicitis as well, so the Doctor supposed that she was telling the truth. Nevertheless, there was something that the pairing weren't telling him. He could have asked Strax, but that was probably pointless. If Strax knew, he wouldn't care. And even if he knew, he wouldn't tell the Doctor. He was a man of honour and would keep his mouth shut if Vastra asked him to. And no doubt she would have, if she was lying to the Doctor about things. It was none of his business, they were only colleagues after all, but the Doctor liked to think that he and Vastra had become good friends and this was the sort of thing that good friends were honest about. Not that the Doctor had ever been truly honest with anyone, except Clara. And even then, he still kept things from her when he needed to. He had lost any ability to lie to Clara, but he could keep secrets easily enough.

Satisfied that Vastra wasn't dying on him any time soon, the Doctor bid her farewell and bumped into Jenny coming the other way as he left. Jenny seemed flustered but the Doctor put that down to Jenny being nervous about Vastra. Even so, they weren't their normal selves and the Doctor couldn't put his finger on exactly what was bothering him.

The Doctor went home and set himself in for the long haul, prepared to work as late as necessary. Then, his screen lit up. It was Jack, inviting him for a drink that evening. Well, not so much inviting as telling him that they were going out on the town. Naturally, the Doctor was free to invite Clara as well but judging by the way that Jack had phrased it, he was hoping for the Doctor to be riding solo and wingmanning him. The Doctor texted Clara anyway, expecting her to decline and relieved when she did. As much as he loved spending every second he could with Clara, when he was with Jack, he had a different kind of fun and he felt that if Clara was there, he'd want to spend every second with her. Jack's nights out were three different shades of crazy and he wanted to appreciate it properly.

Jack texted him the details and the Doctor needed to be ready to leave by 8pm. Clara arrived back at half 6 and they had time to eat dinner and try to make a child before the Doctor had to get ready to leave. Clara's day had been above average, the Doctor didn't say much about his. He didn't want to mention Vastra but noted that Amy had responded positively to the idea of marriage counselling and Clara's lips had curled upwards at that.

If the Doctor had left when he was supposed to then he probably would have arrived at the bar a few minutes early. However, he had been distracted by pro-creation sex or Clara's beauty, it was difficult to tell which and the net result was that he was almost ten minutes late, much to Jack's chagrin. After punishing the Doctor for his lateness with shots of tequila, Jack got the show on the road…

* * *

The Doctor woke in a hedge. His clothing was torn to shreds by the thorns in the hedge and the Doctor had plenty of scratches to match that. His left shoulder hurt considerably and he wondered if he had pulled a muscle or dislocated it. He crawled out of the hedge as best he could, a stinking headache overtaking him and he groaned in pain. His favourite bow tie was missing, his phone, wallet and keys were all gone and he only had one shoe. To say that it had been a heavy night would inevitably be an understatement. As the Doctor found his feet, he lurched round and vomited into the hedge that he had just climbed out of. He hated alcohol, he really did. It made everything fuzzy and horrible and he just wanted to be dead. As he turned back around, a blonde woman was staring at him. He'd never seen her before in his life and he had no idea where he was, his sense and memory not kicking in properly.

"Oi!" she shouted and the Doctor groaned. "Get the hell out of hedge before I call the police!"

The Doctor went pale and the woman burst into laughter. The Doctor frowned in confusion and she dismissed him with a wave, cheerily smirking as the Doctor stayed rooted to the spot, perplexed and terrified.

"Sorry!" the woman laughed. "Jack said that you'd react like that. He also said it would be bloody hilarious. We're at his new place, the one you ranted on about last night, claiming you'd never seen it and you weren't impressed. You never did get to see it either; you didn't make it past the garden. Jack's upstairs, waiting for you. Better head up."

The Doctor thanked the strange woman, who he assumed was a one-night stand once he managed to cotton onto the state of her clothing and the fact that she was vaguely familiar from his foggy at best memories of the previous night. They were coming back to him in dribs and drabs. He stumbled over to the door of the apartment block and pressed the little button next to the name: Jack Harkness. He was buzzed in and the Doctor took twenty minutes to climb two flights of stairs as he failed miserably at life, his shoulder flaring up whenever he tried to move it, meaning that his left arm was pinned to his side.

Jack was waiting for him, the smell of eggs frying and cheery whistling filling the Doctor's nostrils and ears. He let out a moan at the bombardment of sensations and Jack laughed when he saw his friend.

"You were a right state last night Doctor," he chuckled. "I swear that that is the last time we play The Jack Method with you. You almost threw up on Cindy and that would have undone all of our hard work. You met Cindy right? I asked her to wake you on her way out."

"I met her," the Doctor replied hoarsely. "How was she?"

"No idea," Jack replied breezily. "My memory isn't much better than yours. I do remember, I rescued your keys, wallet, phone and left shoe. Well the left shoe was for fun more than anything, but the others were so that you didn't get them robbed while you slept in that bush. I apologise for not carrying you up here, but in my defence, I was so drunk I could barely get myself up here and it was bloody hilarious. Also, I rescued your bow tie. Clara would kill me if I let you lose it. It was the one you wore…"

"On the day that I asked her to marry me," the Doctor finished. "Yes I know Jack. Thanks for all of that. Except The Jack Method. What even is the Jack Method?!"

"The Jack Method, as I told you no less than five times last night, is the strategy I employ when picking up men or women, depending on the mood. Apparently last night, it ended up being Cindy. Every time someone gets shot down, they have to take a shot of vodka, with whiskey for every fifth shot and tequila for every tenth. The idea is that early on you want to be knocked back, but after a couple of rejections, you up your game, so you get progressively more determined not to be an arse as the night goes on as you get drunker. It's fascinating."

"But I wasn't trying it on with anyone last night!" the Doctor protested.

"Yes I know," Jack almost sounded disappointed but there was a teasing nature to his voice. Jack knew how the Doctor felt about Clara and despite his own lifestyle, he thought it was beautiful. "So you were my team mate. Whenever I got rejected, we both drank. I guess we can see which of us handled it better."

The Doctor wanted to complain but couldn't. Instead, he looked for his phone as Jack served up the eggs. The Doctor was expecting a couple of missed calls and a handful of texts, but Clara had only sent him the one text:

_Hey Sleepyhead. I trust you two had a wicked night because you called me last night at 2:30am to tell me just that. Don't worry I'm still too buttered up from yesterday morning to be angry. Just drop me a text when you read this so that I know that you're still alive and I don't have to kill Jack. I love you and I'll make dinner tonight, as I expect you'll still be a zombie when I get home xxx_

In that moment, he remembered exactly why he loved Clara Oswald. The Doctor smiled and groaned as he tried some of Jack's eggs and they played havoc with his stomach. Jack smirked like a smug child as the Doctor frantically replied to Clara, informing her that he was alive, loved her more than anything and was deeply regretting letting Jack drag him out. His every word was written all over his face as he pressed send. It was the middle of the afternoon; he had been in that bush for so long. He only had a few hours until Clara returned from work. Letting off a string of finely chosen curses, the Doctor felt his shoulder pop as he tried to move it. This sent a fresh wave of pain through him and Jack pulled a face.

"I think you've done some real damage to that," he informed the Doctor. "Better go to A&E to get it checked out." The Doctor shook his head and indicated for Jack to look at it himself. Jack sighed but gave in, examining it carefully and letting out a whistle of exclamation. "How the fuck did you sleep on this, it's definitely dislocated. Hang on, I'll pop it back in, in 3…"

Jack popped it back in before he said two and the Doctor let out a howl of pain as he did so. The Doctor grimaced, nodding his appreciation to Jack as he gritted his teeth to avoid the pain. He asked Jack if he could shower and Jack showed him through to it. The Doctor showered quickly and painfully, the amount of scratches on his body painfully apparent as he doused himself in hot water. His shoulder was agony. After he dressed in some clothes that Jack had lent him, an old t-shirt and jeans, he pocketed all of his stuff, threw his shoes back on and headed out. Jack chucked him a couple of painkillers, which the Doctor swallowed for good measure and the two arranged to meet in more calm circumstances so that they could talk properly as whatever secrets had been spilled the previous night, they had both been too drunk to remember and even properly form their sentences.

When the Doctor got home, he had time to change into his PJs and wrap himself up in a blanket on the sofa before Clara got in. Her immediate reaction was one of amusement mixed with pity as she walked over and kissed the top of his head. He had done nothing to earn her being super nice to him, but super nice to him she was anyway. She made him tea, cuddled with him for a bit and then cooked dinner and did the washing up. When the Doctor had asked her what he had done to deserve her being so sweet to him, she had replied: "Because I love you. And I hate to see you in pain, no matter how self-induced it may have been."

She massaged his shoulder and she made sure to promise to sleep on his right side after he had explained about his shoulder. She offered to play nurse and they had a fun, relaxing evening that almost made the Doctor forget about the agony he was in as she soothed him. She rubbed cream into his scratches and they had a long hot bath. As they crawled into bed that night, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and the Doctor had a startling realisation in that moment. That this would be the rest of his life. That when he went out with Jack Harkness and drank too much, then Clara would never judge him, but she would care for him. And she would always be there. To massage his injured shoulder, to sleep on his stronger side, to kiss his pain away. And the idea that the rest of his life consisted in Clara Oswald made him the happiest man alive.

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***Tomorrow: Rory falls off his chair, the Doctor shaves his hair again and Annabelle makes Clara a cup of tea! And some interesting stuff happens as well, I promise***


	12. Chapter 12: The High Life

***Hey guys! Another day, another chapter. A few more hours and I will have crawled out of the hole that is 5 essays and then I can focus all of my attention on writing. I'm hoping to get a couple of chapters done tonight and there's quite a bit going on. So, today's chapter is full to bursting. Clocking in at almost 4000 words, there's references to almost every story line in the book so far. On top of that, there's some adorable Whouffle, references to a character from Damaged and lots of subtle hints of what is to come. I think this is the biggest chapter in the story so far, both metaphorically and literally, so I really hope you like it. As ever, thank you so much for reading, following, reviewing and favouriting and please please, let me know what you think of it. TPD***

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The Doctor, Clara had decided, was the most impatient human being ever to live. September had turned into October and he had started badgering her to take pregnancy tests. Clara had wanted to point out that it was the most pointless exercise known to man, that they had been trying for less than two months and that she had had a period during that time, but she decided not to, because the look on his little face said it all. So she peed on the stick and prepared to act all surprised and upset when it came back negative. What she had not been predicting however, was the painful stab that shot through her when it came back negative. She had been thoroughly expecting it, and had even thought that the whole thing would be amusing in a way, just so that the Doctor didn't feel put down. But seeing that she wasn't pregnant hit Clara in a way that she hadn't realise it would and she didn't have to fake her reaction when she told the Doctor the news. He pulled her in tightly and kissed the top of her forehead. Clara wanted to cry and she didn't understand it. She had known that she wouldn't be pregnant, so why did it bother her so much?

Clara had called her dad that evening. She still didn't tell him that they were trying, as much because she didn't want to remind herself of the morning than because she didn't want to tell him, but she wanted to see how he was doing. He sounded a lot cheerier, and as Clara had been to see him a couple of weeks ago, she was convinced that her father had stopped living in a hole. He seemed to be facing up to his loneliness, which in Clara's mind was the first step to solving that problem. He wasn't looking for another Mandy, which was another good sign. He wanted a deep, meaningful connection and at his age, he was better off looking for a friend than a partner.

Her dad could tell something was up, but when she brushed it off, he didn't press the subject. Clara didn't want to talk to anyone except the Doctor and he had seemed less disappointed than her, which Clara understood even less. He had well and truly psyched himself up for it, whereas she had already resigned herself to the inevitable outcome, yet it stung her and he seemed to knock it back like it was nothing. She didn't know how to react to that, or to tell the Doctor how she felt. It would have been great if she could vent to Annabelle, but she knew exactly how selfish that would look, when Annabelle's life was falling apart and Clara was whining about how she wasn't pregnant after so little time. She couldn't do that to her friend. Rory was another candidate but his own marriage wasn't exactly rosy and Clara didn't want to rub it in either.

That evening, Clara threw herself into the Doctor, determined to press everything else behind her and enjoy their relationship and him. He could tell that she wasn't herself, he had always had that ability but he didn't call her out on it as he probably had a good idea of what was bothering her, or at least half an idea. He reciprocated her enthusiasm and her passion but she knew that he was worried about her.

The next day, Clara was exhausted and her year 8s didn't make life any easier for her. By the time lunch came around, she wanted nothing more than to bail on her day, crawl into bed and sleep for a week. Clara ate lunch as she normally did, in her classroom, trying to finish as much of her work as possible so that she had less to do after school and when she was with the Doctor. She wasn't expecting company, so it was a pleasant surprise when Rory knocked on her classroom door. She pulled him into a hug and invited him to sit down, the childish chair opposite her big comfy spinner seeming a tad small in comparison but he gratefully accepted it.

"How've you been Oswin?" he asked cheerfully and Clara tried to determine if his cheeriness was genuine or masking more pain. On the face of it, Rory seemed to be happy but she had seen many people pretend to be happy when inside they were falling apart. It was an art that she herself had mastered for a long time, before she met the Doctor.

"Good," Clara replied briskly, because the honest truth was that she was good. She was tired and confused, but she was still happy, and would continue to be happy as long as the Doctor was by her side. "What about you Centurion? How's counselling?"

"Great!" Rory sighed in relief, leaning back in his small chair. "I mean I really feel as though we're opening up to each other. Amy's finally being honest with me and I'm being honest with her. I mean these last few months have really made me feel as though I didn't know what to do, but now that we're talking, I feel as though we can work our way through it!"

"That's great!" Clara enthused, allowing a smile to erupt onto her face. It was great to hear that the Ponds were back on track or at least heading in the right direction. She suddenly felt less guilty and came out with, in what she hoped was a casual voice: "The Doctor and I are trying for a child."

She immediately regretted saying it, as Rory, who had been leaning precariously anyway, toppled over backwards, his head smacking the desk behind him on his way down. Clara let out a noise that was half squeal, half laugh and leapt to her feet to make sure Rory was okay. She heard him groan and then saw the top of his head pop up as he moved into a sitting position. He wasn't bleeding but he sounded groggy and Clara knelt beside him to feel the back of his head. There was a large lump and he winced when she touched it.

"I'm fine Oswin," he assured her, pushing himself up with the help of the desk to support himself. "That's amazing news!" he beamed. "Like seriously amazing! You two will make the best parents in the world and Amy and I get to be Godparents. Clara, I am so happy for you!" He pulled Clara into a bone crushing hug, lifting her off her feet as he often did and she found herself squealing again.

"Stop doing that Rory!" she scolded as he dropped her and she stumbled backwards. He laughed a little at that. "Thanks though, it means a lot to hear you say that. We've not told anyone yet, so do me a favour and don't tell Amy. I'm sure that the Doctor wants to see the look on her face for himself."

"Of course," Rory replied, though he seemed really flustered by now and he was grinning a lot. "I mean, Amy and I have talked about kids and neither of us are really ready yet or want them, maybe when she finally gives up her modelling career. But just the idea of having a little Clara or Doctor running around that we can babysit for or thinking that when we do have kids it'll be like they have an older brother or sister to guide them. And you two will make the best team. I mean, I can't think of a couple better suited to be parents."

The words didn't sound hollow, as Clara had expected them to. Instead, they resonated, pinging about her like her body was a pinball machine and the words were a small metal ball. She found herself unable to reply, fixated on Rory's statement. She and the Doctor, parents. The idea still sounded crazy to her, but it was growing less crazy by the day. She looked up at Rory, all thoughts of a negative pregnancy test forgotten. Then, something else that he said stuck with her. Something that she should have clocked earlier. _When she finally gives up her modelling career._ That didn't sit right with Clara. Not because Rory shouldn't want Amy to give it up, or because she shouldn't have to give it up, although both of those were perfectly true and she suspected that Rory didn't mean it the way he had phrased it. But because Amy had been fired. And Rory still, somehow, didn't know. She couldn't say anything. She had promised the Doctor. And in any case, maybe Rory did know and circumstances had changed, or Amy hadn't given up modelling. One firing didn't cut you out of an industry. Clara couldn't jump to conclusions.

"Thank you Rory," she said after what seemed like forever, hoping that she hadn't been in her own little world for too long. "I mean, you don't know how much it meant to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth Clara," he insisted, with a smile. "You two deserve to be happy."

"So do you and Amy," Clara replied. But he also deserved to know the truth.

* * *

Clara had another unexpected visitor when she was sat in her room after work, finishing off marking some homework. Rose knocked on her door, letting herself in to see if Clara was in there moments later. Clara hadn't heard the knock, but looked up when the door opened and smiled enthusiastically at Rose. She was always happy to see the blonde, on the rare occasions that Rose came down her neck of the woods.

"Coffee at Donna's?" Rose asked and Clara, slightly taken-aback, nodded quickly. "Good, we need to talk. There's something that you need to see."

The something, it turned out, was Annabelle. They took a seat at Donna's and their waitress was the blonde, who looked thoroughly irked that they were there and said nothing to them, except asking their orders in an abrupt tone. Clara didn't know why she bothered asking, as after five years, she knew exactly how Clara liked her tea and also knew that hell would freeze over before Clara ordered anything else. In any case, Annabelle didn't look pleased.

"Why didn't she tell me that she was working here?" Clara asked in an undertone as Rose watched Annabelle go about her work, a plastic smile plastered on her face whenever Donna or a customer was looking her way. "She's my best friend."

"She's also embarrassed Clara," Rose pointed out. "You're a teacher, you don't get people looking down on you for what you do. But Annabelle, if she tells people she works in a coffee shop, how do you imagine that goes down?"

"There's nothing wrong with working in a coffee shop!" Clara protested and Rose rolled her eyes. "There isn't. Not in my mind anyway."

"In your mind," Rose pointed out. "Not everyone is as understanding or caring as you Clara. Annabelle knows you won't judge her, but she hates admitting to you that she's hit rock bottom. You've known her a long time, you consider the two of you equals." Clara went to protest that Annabelle and her were equals but Rose cut her off. "But Annabelle doesn't. She thinks you're prettier than her, you have a better job, you have the Doctor and hell even Tom. Tom didn't die for Annabelle Clara, he died for you."

Clara opened her mouth to speak, but there were no words to come out. She'd never considered herself better than Annabelle and she knew that Annabelle knew that as well, but it shouldn't be a shock to her that Annabelle envied Clara. Clara wanted more than anything to help Annabelle but in that moment it occurred to her exactly Annabelle was so vehement that she would manage on her own. She wanted to prove that she could cope as well as Clara, without Clara. Something else occurred to her in that moment: did Annabelle blame her for Tom's death? She thought back to Annabelle's book. The character portraying Tom had never for a second questioned dying for Clara. And Clara's character had been portrayed with a degree of love, a degree of perfection, that looking back was almost mocking. It was almost as if she was too perfect. In Tom's eyes, Clara was perfect. Clara felt her mind running away with her and Rose was shooting her a look that Clara couldn't pin down.

"What do you think?" Clara asked Rose quietly.

"I think that it's not your fault," Rose replied honestly. "I think Annabelle loves you and resents you and resents herself for resenting you. And before you say it, I don't think that she holds you responsible for Tom's death, but it has been such a long time and she hates how you're okay and she isn't."

"Not a day goes by," Clara said, her voice hushed but deadly seriously. "That I don't miss Tom. And that I don't honour his memory by going out there to be the best person that I can be. Because without him, I wouldn't be here."

Rose went to say something but stopped when she saw a tear roll down Clara's cheek. It broke her heart to think that Annabelle thought that way, thought that Clara was okay with Tom's death, how she could ever be okay with Tom's death. But what hurt more, was the realisation that she might just be right. Clara wasn't miserable. She wasn't upset. When she thought about Tom, she felt a momentary pang of pain, but it was soon overwhelmed by how happy she was. Annabelle had no such respite.

"I'm sorry," Clara said suddenly and Rose raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry about telling you to stay around from Ten. It's not my business to tell you two that you shouldn't see each other, regardless of the fact that he's engaged."

"You were right though," Rose replied with a smile and Clara bit her lip. "When I first came back to England, all I could think about was David and how amazing it would be if we got back together. And when I heard he was engaged, my first thought was: _'It won't last.' _Can you imagine that Clara? How selfish I was? And I suppose it's understandable selfishness but the truth was, I didn't care about Martha. And now I just think, if he's happy, then what right do I have to interfere? It's better that he doesn't know I'm here, it will only put unfair pressure on him."

"Rose," Clara paused for a moment before proceeding. If Ten wanted to see Rose, he would have done so by now. She shouldn't say anything.

"Clara?" Rose asked.

"Nothing," Clara said after considering it for a brief second. The choice was Ten's now. And Rose herself didn't want to do something that she'd regret and Clara suspected that she'd regret going after Ten, whatever the outcome.

"Listen Clara," Rose leaned in close. "There's another reason I'm here. I wanted to tell you that as much as I appreciate all of the help that you've given me, I'm quitting my job in the canteen. I've finally got a different job. I'm going to finish my degree in Psychology and in the meantime, I've got bar work to keep me ticking over. I'm going to stay in London and keep living with Annabelle, but I didn't want you to think I was throwing back your offers in your face."

"Don't be silly!" Clara laughed, trying to appear casual, despite the fact that her mind was bogged down by the conversation. "I mean that's great, I'd hate for you to stay stuck in that dingy canteen on minimum wage for ages. I mean, it won't affect me at all as far as I can see, although they might not let me recommend anyone for a while. Seriously, it's fine Rose, you go out there and you do what you can do. Become some hotshot psychologist. Live the high life!"

"Clara?" Rose stood and looked down at her, and Clara immediately felt as if she was being analysed. "None of this is your fault. You can't help the cards that you're dealt and right now, you've got a better hand than Annabelle. Give her a bit of space and then try to talk to her in a week or so. I think you both have things that you need to get off your chest and you're best friends, I know that you'll work it out."

"Thanks Rose, for everything."

* * *

The Doctor was frying when Clara got home, the smell of noodles sifting through the house. She smiled at this and threw herself down on the sofa. He poked his head out of the kitchen and shot her his most Doctory smile. She loved that. She loved how just the sight of his overly large chin and rocket fin ears could cheer her up.

"You've shaved your hair again!" she accused, unable to think of anything else to say. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I never notice when you get your hair cut or dyed a different shade of brown or whatever it is you do!" he replied defensively and then suddenly realised that this was precisely the wrong thing to say as she raised an eyebrow at him, almost daring him not to fix the situation. "I mean, do you like it?"

"You looked hot with short hair," Clara admitted. "But not that short, your ears still freak me out. At least you left some hair this time, you looked scary with that bald head."

"You know you should try short hair some time!" the Doctor suggested. "You'd look cute."

"No thanks," Clara shuddered. "I had the worst bowl cut in history when I was twelve. Doctor…do you think that Annabelle blames me? For Tom?"

The question took him aback and he stopped for a moment before sticking his head back in the kitchen and Clara heard him cursing at the noodles. It was only a few seconds before his head popped back.

"No," he said. "Have you spoken to her?"

"No, Rose," Clara replied. "But she told me that Annabelle envies me and that it's all because I'm happy and that she isn't. And that I'm okay about Tom's death and she's not." Clara paused. "And Tom died for me. Not Annabelle. If it wasn't for me…"

"No," the Doctor snapped and Clara shot him a look. "Don't do this to yourself. You don't have to apologise to anyone for being happy, Clara Oswald, you've earned it. You've been to hell and back and if anyone in the world deserves the happiness that they get it's you. It's not your fault Tom died and it never has been. We went through all of this. That summer, the summer after he died. You blamed yourself and you cried and cried and I held you and told you that it was going to be okay. You nearly didn't go back for your third year because of it. But we got past that. We got through it. Whatever's going on with Annabelle, it's not your fault Clara. You've done everything you can for her; she can't blame you for that."

"She doesn't," Clara said quietly. "But I'm so happy and she's not and it all just seems so unfair."

"Clara," the Doctor left the kitchen now and she heard him curse at the noodles before turning the hob off. He was wiping his hands on his grey waistcoat as he approached and pulled her into a Doctor hug. The Doctor hug was the greatest weapon in his arsenal. It was just the right amount of pressure, almost too tight but not quite and not loose enough that she felt like he would let go or that she would slip from his grip. His hands were in the perfect places, his left just brushing her spine as it settled in the small of her back, the other entangled in her hair, just tickling her nape as it did so. His lips always just lightly touched her cheek on the way through as his head rested on her shoulder and his big chin met her collarbone. He was always the perfect temperature and the hug soothed Clara, calming her instantly.

"Clara," the Doctor repeated. "Life is unfair. You are happy and Annabelle isn't and that's just a fact of life. You want to help her, of course you do. But don't resent yourself for being happy, because Annabelle doesn't. She might think it's unfair, but she'd never want you to be any less happy on her account. She's angry at the world, not you."

Clara nodded. She didn't want to believe the Doctor, but the way he spoke reassured her. She filled him in on everything going on with Rose and Annabelle and he absorbed all of the information, nodding at various points. Then, Clara's thoughts drifted to Rory. She hadn't talked to Rory about Amy being fired, but she needed to know the truth, as it was burning at her. The Doctor had gone back into the kitchen to try and rescue the noodles and Clara felt guilty for ruining their dinner. But, the Doctor did one of his master chef tricks and the noodles were delicious. Clara thought about how best to phrase it, without the Doctor clamming up on her.

"So how did Rory take the news of Amy losing her job?" Clara asked her best sympathetic voice in play and the Doctor raised an eyebrow. Clara was useless at lying to him, he'd clock her instantly.

"He doesn't know yet," the Doctor confessed. "And you already knew that."

"I suspected," Clara retaliated, determined not to let it become an argument.

"She's all over the place Clara," the Doctor told her and Clara felt guilty. "She doesn't know what to do or how long she can keep pretending. She really needs to tell him, but she can't bring herself to do it. She's looking for more jobs but the modelling world is…difficult to break into and with that black mark on her record…well I'm trying to convince her to move into journalism. With her background and her English degree, she'd be a brilliant fashion magazine writer/editor person. I'm working on it Clara, but I just need more time."

"She should talk to Rory!" Clara's voice seemed to have ignored the prerogative of not letting it become an argument. The Doctor flinched but didn't respond. "I mean Doctor, Rory needs to know."

"Clara," the Doctor's voice was calm and quiet but there was a subtext to it that Clara didn't like. "Promise me you won't tell Rory. It's not fair on Amy and you shouldn't even know that she has lost her job. I told you, trusted you. Now promise me that no matter angry you are, that you won't tell Rory."

Clara wanted to scream at him and tell him damn Amy and that Rory was important to her. But she could see the look in his eyes. He knew exactly how she felt and he knew that she wanted more than anything to tell Rory. And he was pleading her not to, because if she did, then he would have betrayed Amy as a friend and worse, Clara would have betrayed him and their pact to remain neutral. And he was right. She couldn't tell Rory.

"I promise."

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***And tomorrow: face paint, shots and naked people. Oh and some plot development occurs as well.***


	13. Chapter 13: Halloween Again

***Hey one and all. Great news, essays are behind me and I have a fantastic battleplan scheduled. The next four days will consist in a storm of Healing, mopping up any spare prompts and working on an Oswin AU of variable length. Also, I've hit a critical point in my writing, so I really hope you guys are excited! Anyway, this chapter is a reprise of last book's obligatory Halloween chapter, featuring Whouffle as lion(ess)s, a Jack Harkness party and one or two tense moments. Also, holy crap this a long chapter, longer than the last. I rambled a bit towards the end but I really wanted to get inside Clara's head. I hope you like it. As ever, let me know your thoughts via review (or PM xandrota ;) ) and thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! You guys are the best The Potter Doctor***

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Clara curled her hair so that was wild and untameable, running her hand through it. The Doctor had recommended grease as the best option, and Clara had reluctantly taken his advice, smearing the thick, oily stuff onto her hands. Her hair was sprayed with some tacky children's party hair dye so that it was golden, and her face was painted yellow with dark brown whiskers. She was wearing a yellow leotard and it was covered in makeshift brown fur. Clara looked in the mirror. Her lioness impression was spot on. She looked round at her fiancé, who was struggling to do up his shoes. His lion impression was somewhat lacking. Every year, they tried to do joint costumes. And every year, the Doctor failed miserably. Luckily, Clara had prepared for this. She had painted his face, dressed him herself and he was looking about as much a lion as he was ever going to. But even now, he was struggling to get his shoes on. Clara rolled her eyes in desperation. It looked like she was driving.

They headed to Sevenoaks, a rich part of Kent, where Jack's party house was kept. Jack, being Jack, had a flat in the city and also a house in the countryside, for when he threw his epic, sprawling parties. It was Halloween and Jack Harkness was not a man to let Halloween go down without a massive party. Vastra, Jenny and Strax would be there, as would Ten and Martha. He had apparently invited Annabelle, but she hadn't responded. Clara wasn't surprised. She had been working up the courage to talk to Annabelle but she had been putting it off for a while, taking Rose's advice about giving her space too far and avoiding Donna's, although the Doctor frustratingly still went there, despite Clara's protests.

They pulled up outside Jack's party house and Clara parked up, locking the car and taking the Doctor's arm as they strolled up to the front door. The door fell open as they pushed it and two naked people raced past them. Jack strolled up, laughing at the look of fear in Clara's eyes.

"Don't worry," he chuckled. "I've not invited you to an orgy. I do have a strict clothes on policy, those two are getting hurled out as soon as a security guard catches them. I hired Torchwood personal security, they're the best in the business. I might ask out their chief liaison, Ianto Jones, he's a hot piece of stuff. Clara, you'll have to help me with him, he's British and they tend to be a little bit tough to deal with. And speaking as someone who managed to pull this hunk of muscle…" Jack punched the Doctor's abs playfully. "You are an expert in the field of hot British blokes. Anyway, knock yourselves out literally; I have enough booze to tranq half of England. There are bedrooms upstairs if you can find a free one. Obviously, the clothes on policy is wavered in those rooms, so knock yourselves out, less literally in this case eh? If you need anything, I'll be in the hot tub. Oh and great costume Clara, as ever. And you're getting better and making this one look presentable!"

He pinched the Doctor's cheeks and turned on his head, thundering down the corridor and dive bombing into a giant hot tub at the end of it. Clara rolled his eyes and looked at the Doctor who shrugged.

"Ten's around here somewhere," he suggested. "We should go and find him."

Clara agreed with a slight incline of her head as the Doctor guided her through the crowd of rambunctious grown adults, downing shots and behaving like teenagers again. Clara grabbed two bottles of wine of a table, thrust one in the Doctor's direction, despite the distasteful look in his eyes and started guzzling, enjoying the crisp taste. She nudged the Doctor and he followed suit, earning a giggle from Clara as he burped. He dragged her to one side and they found themselves in a smaller side room of Jack's ground floor. They continued to slug at the wine as they weaved through the groups of people, Clara far more proficient at the drinking and the Doctor far better at the weaving.

Eventually, just as Clara's bottle was almost gone, they found themselves spotting a familiar shock of insanely gorgeous hair. The Doctor grinned and pulled Clara along as they bumped into Ten and Martha, who were wearing matching skeleton suits. Ten beamed when he spotted them and pulled the Doctor into a tense hug before turning to examine Clara.

"I almost didn't recognise you!" he laughed. "You look stunning Clara, as ever. How've you been?"

"Great thanks Ten," Clara smiled. "Wedding planning must be nearing final stages for you two lovebirds?"

Ten and Martha shared a look and Clara frowned.

"Thing is," Ten grimaced. "We've both been really busy and we've not been able to make all that much time for wedding planning. So we've been thinking, it's going to probably be a simple ceremony. Just you two and Martha's family. Nothing fancy, nothing spectacular."

"Oh," Clara tried not to sound surprised or disappointed, as she could see that neither Ten nor Martha really wanted it either and she didn't want to make them feel worse. "That's really great. I mean, most of the people at weddings are superfluous anyway, don't you think? I mean, the only person I know I'll be able to look at, let alone think about at our wedding is the Doctor."

"Exactly!" Ten seemed to perk up at this and smiled warmly at Martha, who took this moment as an opportune one to down another shot. Ten winced on her behalf as Martha gave them a pained smile and excused herself briefly. Clara glared at Ten, whose face fell considerably the moment Martha was out of sight.

"What the hell am I doing Clara?" he muttered. "I should be excited, but I just keep thinking that the sooner this wedding is over, the better. It shouldn't be that way, should it? I mean I love Martha, I really do. I love the fact that when I finish work and crawl to bed, she's there, equally knackered. And we may not have the most active of relationships, but that moment, that intimacy at the end of a tough day, it means the world to me. To both of us. That should be all we need right?"

"A marriage is a life commitment," the Doctor replied calmly. "And if you think that you want to spend the rest of your life with Martha, then nothing else should matter. The rest is all kinks."

Clara smiled at this. The Doctor was a romantic at heart, not a pragmatist. He didn't realise that whilst wanting to be with someone forever was a nice start, a relationship needed more than that. It was easy for him. Their relationship functioned of its own accord and not everyone was so lucky.

"Ten," Clara said gently, handing him a glass of wine. "If you truly love Martha and truly want to be with her, then you need to ask yourself what your priorities are and start focusing on what is important."

Martha returned after a couple of minutes, a tray covered in shots in her hands. She smiled more warmly now and they all took two each, except Clara who grabbed the two spares and took them one after the other. She felt the rum go to her head and leaned on the Doctor to steady herself. He kissed her cheek sloppily and then the Doctor pointed out Vastra and Jenny and ran over to say hi, leaving Clara alone with Ten and Martha. Martha had an air of uncertainty about her, as if she was perpetually nervous about something. Her dark hair sat on her shoulders and her right hand was constantly moving, up and down Ten's left shoulder. Clara wasn't sure if he noticed. Ten was swaying slightly and Clara realised he was drunker than she'd thought.

"Why don't you two call it a night?" Clara suggested cheerily, shooting Martha a suggestive wink. "Jack has plenty of spare rooms, you two look like you could use an early night."

"Great idea!" Martha enthused, pulling Ten to his feet and hugging Clara unexpectedly. "Thanks Clara, it was great to see you."

Before Clara could respond, they were gone, moving through the room with the speed of two people who had somewhere important to be. Clara pulled a face. She needed to have a serious talk with sober David before he made a huge mistake. He really needed to start putting Martha first if he had any intention of sustaining a marriage. And Martha needed to do the same. A marriage based on mutual comfort wasn't a terrible starting point, but there needed to be more to it. They never looked happy together, Clara realised. Maybe happiness was just something that only the luckiest got. It was certainly starting to feel like it.

"Are you alright?" the Doctor asked as he slipped back in alongside her. "Did Ten and Martha head off to bed?" Clara nodded twice, responding to both questions. "I know you worry about them Clara, but David is a big boy. He can handle himself. He's handled the Rose situation better than we both gave him credit for."

Clara nodded again, suddenly feeling as though more alcohol was the answer. She reached for the nearest bottle, turning out to be Sambuca and poured four more shots, taking two and watching as the Doctor finished them off, making a face and gasping. Clara was feeling more than a little tipsy now and all the better for it. She grabbed the Doctor and kissed him now, letting her emotions flow into him as they shared their deepest thoughts through the majesty of dancing tongues. His hands were tangled in her hair, and she wasn't sure he'd be able to get them out again. She didn't care either way. She ran her hands over his razored head, the short bristles of his hair turning her on as she nuzzled her nose against his.

"You are so hot," she whispered, burying her head into his chest. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don't know what I'd do or where I would be without you. My Doctor."

"And you Clara Oswald are the most beautiful girl that I have ever laid eyes on. And you have changed my life in so many ways, all of them for the better. Without you, I know exactly where I would be and I don't mind saying that I much prefer the way things actually are. I love you. My Clara."

"Well isn't this just sickly sweet. Love is in the air, am I right Clara?"

Clara took her head off of the Doctor's chest to swivel and face Annabelle. She looked positively wretched. Her blonde hair was tangled, her makeup smeared and she was barely standing. She had an almost empty bottle of vodka in one hand and her purse wrapped around her. She was sneering, a look of hatred aimed squarely in Clara's direction. Clara bit her lip and looked at Annabelle sadly, trying to think of the words to soothe her drunk and angry friend. Annabelle hiccupped and staggered forwards, so that she was closer to Clara. The party was still going on around them but other than the Doctor, whose grip on Clara's arm had tightened ever so slightly, the only person she could hear and see was Annabelle. Clara stepped forwards, towards Annabelle, leaving the Doctor a step behind her.

"Annabelle," Clara said evenly, putting on her most sympathetic face. "I wasn't expecting you to come tonight. You never replied to Jack's invite, so I just thought…"

"You didn't think about me Clara!" Annabelle spat and Clara winced at the harshness of her slurred words. "You never think about me, except when you pity me. Or laugh at me. You and the Doctor, in your gorgeous house, with all of your money. And your engagement. Look at yourself Clara. In a year, you'll probably be married with a kid on the way, living in some mansion somewhere, without a care in the world except what brand of designer nappy to buy for your soon to be precious toddler. And all the while, I'll be sat in my hovel, scraping by off minimum wage, at rock bottom."

"Annabelle," Clara said quietly, her voice breaking along with her heart. "You know that whatever happens, you're still my best friend and I would do anything to help you."

"Like what Clara?" Annabelle choked. "I'm not Rose. I don't want or need your charity or your pity. All I want is my best friend. But it seems like she's too wrapped up in her own perfect life to stop in and say hello these days."

That was fair. Clara hadn't been to check on Annabelle in too long, far too scared of getting a reaction much like she was getting now. She didn't want to respond, didn't want to defend herself against the verbal battering that Annabelle was sending her way. Annabelle was alone and angry at the world and taking it out on the one person who actually cared about her. So many people did it and Clara was not about to deny Annabelle her chance to scream at how unfair the world was.

"Do you even think about him anymore?" Annabelle shot and Clara felt a tear slide down her cheek. Please Annabelle. Not that. "He died, because of you Clara. If you hadn't been in the way of that damned car, he would never have died. But more than that. If you weren't so beautiful and so flirty and so damned perfect, then he never would have fallen for you like a lovesick puppy." People had stopped their conversations now and everyone was staring at the hysterically shrieking Annabelle. "And he never would have thrown himself in front of that car. Because that's what you do Clara. You make people feel worthless compared to you. You make them feel as though their lives are nothing compared to yours. And Tom obviously felt as though your life was worth more than his. And now? Now you barely spare him a thought. Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong."

"Annabelle!" the Doctor said softly but firmly. "That's enough. Clara, come here, you don't have to listen to this.

"No," Clara whispered, tears streaming down her face. "It's okay. Annabelle, I loved him too you know. If I had the choice, if I had the chance, I would never have never have let him do what he did. You know that. I couldn't live with myself afterwards, knowing that Tom valued my life so highly. But you know what? I'm living for him. Every day. I get up every morning and I am determined to be happy. But he sacrificed himself so I could be happy and I won't apologise for that. Would you rather I was miserable Annabelle? Would he rather I was miserable? Annabelle, I am here for you. And Tom would want you to happy too. He would have done the same thing for you or anybody. It was never about me. I didn't warp him. He was just an amazing person. And he would want you to be happy Annabelle. If he could see us now, he'd probably smack our heads together and tell us to kiss and make up."

"Well we'll never know, will we Clara?" Annabelle spat. "What he wanted is irrelevant. Because he died. Because of you. And there is no justice. Because you get your happy ending and he ended up in a coffin."

Annabelle hurled the bottle of vodka at Clara. She closed her eyes, waiting for it to smash into her, but the Doctor dragged her out of its path. Annabelle had wheeled around and stormed off, leaving Clara unmoving in the Doctor's arms.

"Clara," he was saying, but she could barely hear his voice. "Clara, it's okay. You can't listen to her. She's angry and drunk, she doesn't mean it."

Clara didn't need the Doctor's reassurances. She knew Annabelle was hurting and she blamed Clara for all of it. In a way, Clara blamed herself. Annabelle's words were not new thoughts, they were all thoughts that Clara herself had wrestled with for months following Tom's death. But she had told herself, over and over again that the only way to honour Tom, the only way to make his death worth something, was to live. Blaming herself was pointless, it wouldn't bring him back. Clara wasn't angry at Annabelle, or stung by the words. She was just numb. And she was sad. Because whatever else Annabelle had said, she was right. Clara had failed Annabelle as a friend.

"I'm fine," Clara said out loud, as she had finally had enough of the Doctor's ramblings. He looked down at her, his arms still wrapped around her protectively, as if the world was after her and only he could shield her from it. "Can we just go to bed please?"

"Clara…"

"Doctor," she replied firmly, forcing a smile onto her face. "I love you. But right now, there's nothing more you can do for me than to take me to bed. Please."

* * *

The Doctor wasn't entirely sure what to expect as he ushered Clara upstairs. She seemed strange, like she was fine but not fine at all. He wasn't sure whether she'd curl up into a ball and start crying or throw herself on him in a fit of passion and rage. She was subdued, but not upset and as he locked the door she did a pirouette onto the double bed, throwing herself onto it and exhaling in a relaxed fashion. She sat up and smiled apologetically at him, as he crossed the room, stripping off his leotard as he did so. He had grabbed their bag from the cloakroom, containing their nightwear, but he strongly suspected that they wouldn't wear it; they rarely did. Clara had also kicked her costume, so she was lying on the bed, hair around her like a golden halo, wearing just knickers and a bra. The Doctor was in his underwear as he lay beside her, kissing her forehead gently. He suspected that she would go for relaxed rather than passionate.

"I'm sorry," she said after a long moment, turning to face him, a sad expression on her face. "Tonight did no go smoothly and I know much you wanted to enjoy it. I need to speak to Annabelle and this time I won't leave it as long as I did last time. I've been a bad friend to her, that much even you can't deny. She has every right to be angry."

"Don't let her words hurt you," the Doctor whispered. "Nobody blames you for Tom."

"I know," Clara smiled at him. "I love you. So much. So damned much. Because my best friend just had a major public blowout and she's all I can think about. Right now, all I want is to wrap Annabelle into the biggest hug and tell her that I'm sorry and that everything is going to be okay. But you. You're just looking at me, as if you can't believe that she had the audacity to do it. You haven't so much spared her a thought, because all you can think about is me. And that is why I love you. Because I know that whatever happens, whatever mistakes I make or whoever I face off against, that you will be by my side, fighting my corner. I love you more than anything Doctor, because I honestly don't know how I'd make it through life without the knowledge that you've got my back."

"I'm always going to be here Clara," he promised, kissing her gently. "I will never leave your side and I will never choose anyone over you. Whatever happens."

They kissed again, their tongues dancing and this time, the Doctor could feel Clara giving in to her passion. She shifted, rolling and pushing him down so that she was straddling him, grinding on him as she felt him grow beneath his boxers, which she swiftly removed, only the thin lace layer of her knickers preventing him from entering her. She teased him with the length of time she took to remove her bra, letting him fondle her breasts for several moments before eventually kicking off her knickers and letting them combine. Clara had this feeling every time they connected, like this would be the time that they produced a child. That this time would be the time that changed their lives. And on that night, she felt it like never before. She felt the great rush that this time; the Doctor would make her a mother. As she collapsed, rolling off of him, she looked at him and told him that she loved him one final time. But not with her words, for her words had exhausted their capability. She told him with her eyes, the look of pure adoration in them penetrating his soul.

They spent the rest of that night lying in each other's arms, letting all their thoughts and fears drift away as they lay together, each of them terrified that if they let go of the other for a second, they would never be able to recapture the moment. Eventually, the Doctor fell asleep, but Clara couldn't. So she stared at the ceiling, her head resting on his shoulder, her entire body draped over his, the bare touch of his flesh enticing her. She kissed his forehead and he stirred slightly. She thought about him and Annabelle and their future. She thought long and hard about marriage and about the marriage that Ten and Martha were about to enter into and the marriage that Amy and Rory were fighting for. But above all, Clara thought about two people. Her mother, so long dead now that she could only remember what her face looked like or her voice sounded like in dreams, or when she was staring at pictures. Her mother, who she loved so much and who had left her, breaking her into pieces.

And Tom. Annabelle's words echoed in her mind and she thought long and hard about them. She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. And yet, those final words that she had never told anyone, including Annabelle. Tom loved her. And he had never specified in what way. It had been a long time since Clara had mused Tom's words and she had long since told herself that they didn't matter. It didn't matter whether or not he wanted to be with her, either way he had sacrificed himself for her happiness and that was all that there was to it. But what if Annabelle had seen it? What if Annabelle felt jealous? Clara had pondered and dismissed this thought so many times. Annabelle and Tom hadn't worked as a couple and they had both accepted that. But what if Annabelle blamed Clara for that?

These thoughts weren't healthy, Clara told herself. In the morning or in a few days, she would straighten things out with Annabelle, air all of their thoughts, lay them on the table and try to find a way to move forward. But was Clara prepared for it? Prepared for what would come out? About herself? About Tom? About Annabelle? Annabelle had five years of anger, of not dealing with Tom's death, which she had pent up and pressed into a novel. With Clara at the heart of it. It didn't do well to dwell on such thoughts, but Clara couldn't help herself. She missed Annabelle being happy, laughing and joking alongside her. She missed Rory, happy Rory, not weighed down by the fear of losing Amy. She missed Tom, she missed him so much, because he would be able to help Annabelle. But above all else, whatever else had happened in her life since and whatever else would happen in her life, she missed her mum. More than anything. Because her mum would have fixed it. Could have fixed anything. But she wasn't around to fix anything. So it was all up to Clara.

* * *

***And tomorrow: Rose smashes a mug, Annabelle eats a ready meal and Clara has cocoa in her tea. Oh and plot developments. Lots of plot developments.***


	14. Chapter 14: Reunions

***Hey guys, sorry for the late update, life gets in the way sometimes eh? I'm a foul mood because I accidently deleted a prompt that I loved working on and probably won't have time to finish it again tonight. This chapter is a big one in the context of the story because there's a lot going but then really all of them are at this stage. We're reaching a critical point in the story. In any case, I really hope you guys love it. This one goes out to xandrota, who I haven't thanked properly for all of their amazing help over the last few weeks and their support. But thanks as ever to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Check back tomorrow. TPD***

* * *

"Can I get two white coffees, two black coffees and a herbal tea please?"

"Of course, coming right up."

The routine wasn't too bad. But it was the daily monotony of taking orders, making coffee, taking them to tables, taking payment, getting yelled at by customers her for things that weren't her fault, mopping the floors, getting yelled at by Donna for things that weren't her fault, refilling the coffee machines, getting yelled at by customers for things that were her fault, wiping down tables, getting yelled by Donna for things that were her fault, having to split her tips and worst of all, spilling boiling coffee down herself. It was Annabelle's idea of hell, on repeat. But that was no excuse, she told herself, as she saw her best friend enter Donna's and head towards Annabelle's till. She had been an absolute cow to Clara and there was absolutely no excuse for the way that she had behaved. The alcohol, the hatred of her own life, all projected outwards on Clara, who had taken it with surprisingly good grace, for someone so vulnerable and, if Annabelle's memory wasn't playing tricks on her, someone who was also quite drunk.

"Clara," Annabelle said quietly, earning her a scowl from Donna. "I mean, what can I get you miss? Let me guess, a single large breakfast tea, with plenty of milk and more than a sprinkle of sugar. That's coming right up. I have a break in ten," she added in a whisper. "I'll come and sit with you. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine," Clara smiled at Annabelle. Her soft hair hung like a curtain around her face but her eyes were alert and her lips raw. Clara really needed to stop chewing on them, Annabelle had decided. She looked okay, and there was no hint of anger in her expression or body language. "I'd like that."

Annabelle quickly made Clara's tea, knowing exactly how she liked it and adding just the right amount of milk, with a light sprinkling of cocoa on top. Clara always insisted that the sprinkle wasn't necessary but the look on her face when she sipped it told Annabelle that it was. Clara had found a table and Annabelle quickly finished up her tasks and Chloe took over on the tills as Annabelle slipped out of her apron, grabbed a coffee and sidled in opposite Clara. It had been three days since Annabelle had lost it at her and she was glad that Clara hadn't waited longer before coming in. Annabelle was working the late shift 2-10 and Clara had clearly just finished work. She had the post-work look of relief, mixed with elation. Annabelle wondered what that must feel like, to actually enjoy your job. She felt bitterness rising up inside her and scolded herself, reminding herself that she wasn't angry at Clara, but herself. Clara had done everything she could for Annabelle, well almost everything. They sat, staring at each other tentatively, both of them waiting for the other to make the first move. Annabelle licked her lips and sipped her coffee. Clara was better than her at this, but Clara herself seemed unsure of what to do, stirring her tea for far longer than was necessary. A trait Annabelle herself could relate to. Their eyes met and there was a tense moment where they both tried to smile.

"I'm sorry I've not been around," Clara began eventually. "I don't know why, but I was terrified of seeing you in case…"

"In case I did exactly what I did?" Annabelle laughed, no joy in the sound. "I spoke to Rose, she said that she could see this coming from a mile off and that she warned you to give me time to simmer. I think you took too much Clara. But it's okay, I'm the one who should be apologising. I was completely out of line. I need you to know, I don't believe any of what I said. I don't blame you. Tom's death…" she took a deep breath. "It was not your fault. It never was and I can't imagine how tough it must have been for you to accept that, even without me being a cow. I should not have said what I said."

"You had your reasons," Clara replied gently, reaching out her hand but Annabelle retracted hers. "Annabelle, I know that things aren't exactly going well for you, but whatever happens, I am here for you, I promise."

"You know Clara," Annabelle muttered. "You're probably the only person whose promises I trust. I hate my life Clara. I'm a failed novelist, living in a small flat on minimum wage, surviving off royalties. I'm alone and the only friends I have are you and Rose. People have promised me things my whole life and then they let me down. But you're different. You don't let people down. You don't walk out on those you care about. And besides, a breakdown in communication is two way. People who get angry at their friends for cutting off contact only have a case when they're actually trying to talk to them. And I was too wrapped up in my anger and suffering to stop and think that maybe I should have told you that I was at rock bottom and that everything was falling apart."

"I should have noticed," Clara sighed, clearly agitated as she ran her hands through her hair. "Sorry, long day. Had to break up a fight and my Year 10s marks are sliding. Plus, that Year 13 with the crush on me broke up with his girlfriend, so I'm worried that that might rear its ugly head again, especially now that he's turning 18. Not to mention the pregnan-"

She had stopped mid-word and looked furious with herself, as if she had slipped up and Annabelle didn't miss the trick. Pregnancy test. That was what she was going to say. Annabelle's eyebrows were up and her eyes piercing Clara's outer reluctance.

"You're not?" she breathed. Silence. "Clara, you're my best friend, you can tell me."

"No," Clara hissed, sounding frustrated. "That's the problem. I mean we've not even been trying that long, only since the start of September, but even so, you know?"

"Wow," Annabelle sat back stunned. Clara was looking horrified, as if she was just making things worse for Annabelle. But a smile broke Annabelle's face, a huge, cheesy grin and she let out a squeal so childish, Clara blushed. "Wow, Clara! That is amazing. Like, you're going to be a mum. And I'm going to have a little goddaughter running around! Oh my God, I can babysit all the time, I promise. And we can go shopping for baby clothes and Clara! This is incredible!"

"I'm not pregnant yet!" Clara laughed. "I thought that the other night was the night, you know? But apparently not. You know, it's one of those things. We'll get there, eventually."

Annabelle felt as if her world had been turned upside down. All her anger and pain had completely evaporated and she got up, crossing the table to Clara and pulling her onto her feet so that they could hug. Clara seemed reluctant for a moment, then she was as giddy as Annabelle and they leapt up and down excitedly, giggling like schoolgirls. Donna cleared her throat and was tapping her watch and Annabelle blushed, smoothing out her outfit before sharing a look with Clara and bursting into fresh, rapturous laughter. Clara finished her tea and grabbed her bag as Annabelle quickly cleared the table, sidling back behind the counter to grab her apron. Clara shot her a small wave and Annabelle sighed contentedly. All of a sudden, being covered in coffee, wiping up tables and being shouted at by strangers, didn't seem like such a bad thing.

* * *

When Annabelle got home, she was expecting Rose to be there, as her flatmate was never usually so late home. She was half-tempted to call her or drop her a text, but then she supposed Rose probably had a date or something. She hadn't been out much in the few months that she had been back in England and it would certainly be good for her to be out and about, doing something. Annabelle plucked a ready meal from the fridge and chucked it into the microwave, turning her nose up at it, but without much option. She was knackered after a long shift and just wanted to eat and then crawl into bed.

"Rose?" she shouted as she heard the front door open and shut. "Is that you…?"

She fell away as the Doctor's cousin David walked into her kitchen. Annabelle dropped her fork and forced her face into a perfect impression of a smile as Rose dashed over to the kettle, smiling affectionately at Ten, who shot Annabelle an awkward smile. Annabelle tried not to glare and kept her voice ice cool as she asked the question that caused Ten to flinch and Rose to drop her tea cup, shattering it on the floor.

"Does your fiancé know that you are here?"

"No," Ten admitted, as if he had needed to. "No she doesn't. And I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell her Annabelle. Or my cousin. And definitely don't tell Clara."

"Interesting," Annabelle smiled. "The one of the three you are most scared of isn't the one who can withhold sex, or with the one with a murderous left hook."

"I can handle the Doctor's left hooks!" Ten riposted. "Clara on the other hand…"

"Enough!" Rose snapped and Annabelle had felt the temperature in the room drop as Rose was shaking. "Annabelle won't say anything, will you? She's not going to stir up trouble."

"Rose," Ten said quietly, but Annabelle was on her feet, staring Rose down. "Annabelle, Rose doesn't mean it like that. She's just saying, that nobody needs to know about this."

"About what?" Annabelle deflected and they both exchanged a look. "You're obviously not having an affair, or you would be trying much harder to keep it subtle. So what exactly is going on here and why shouldn't I tell Clara?"

"Nothing is going on," Ten fielded, as it looked like Rose was about to explode. "We are just two old friends, going out for a meal, catching up on old times and offering some mutual support during difficult periods of both of our lives. And the truth is, it is utterly harmless, but as your reaction has just shown, other people won't take it to be as harmless as it truly is, and will probably judge, as you did, that some sort of engagement is taking place outside of my engagement, which could not be further from the truth and in telling people you will merely be arousing suspicions where none need to be aroused."

Ten looked so happy with the way that he had answered that that Annabelle almost hated to shoot him down. But her snort of derision gave the game away and she shrugged as he looked at her, pure disappointment on his face. Rose was doing a trademark Rose sulk, where she would say whatever to anything pull faces at everything and huff every so often so that people were aware of her presence. She always did it when people didn't give her what she wanted and Annabelle strongly suspected that she was used to people giving her what she wanted as a result of it. Judging by the look on Ten's face, he always did. Annabelle shot Rose a distinctly unimpressed look and returned her attention to Ten, who was at least behaving like an adult and realised that he needed to justify his actions, if not to her then to himself.

"Look," Ten sighed. "I'll admit that coming after Rose was a bad idea…"

"Oh thanks!" Rose spat, huffing.

"You know what," Annabelle felt really bad for Ten in that moment. "Why don't we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Why?" Rose interjected and Annabelle could see the relief drain from Ten's face. "Is there something you don't want to say in front of me?"

"No," Ten responded quickly. "It's just, I needed to see her one last time Annabelle, to catch up and see how she was hanging in there."

"You couldn't resist!" Annabelle informed him, choosing to ignore Rose completely. "You could not resist seeing her and seeing how things could be. You were willing to chase her halfway around the world and even now, you can't stop yourself from going after her. Do you love Martha Ten?"

"Of course I do," he replied defensively and Annabelle didn't need to be looking at Rose to know that she had just stiffened and pulled a face. "I love Martha, so much and I am marrying her. I just needed to see Rose and…"

Annabelle didn't say anything. She just looked at Ten, a mixture of sympathy and sadness. She was torn. She knew that Martha needed to know about that Ten was heading down a bad path. But he genuinely cared for Martha and didn't want to hurt her, that much was obvious. He was stuck in a web and he was the only person who could pull himself out of it. Annabelle knew what that was like, for she had been there herself. She wrapped an arm around Ten and smiled at him.

"Okay," she said quietly, so that Rose couldn't hear. "I won't say anything. But you won't make a liar of me David, so if anyone asks I will tell them the truth. And you have to get your head screwed on properly. Priorities Ten. If you truly love Martha, then you need to stop pretending that what's happening here is okay. Is friendly. You need to act like a man and either marry Martha or don't marry her, but don't string Rose along behind you, because we both know how she feels about you."

Ten didn't respond, but Rose pushed past Annabelle, grabbing his arm. Annabelle went to say something, but she could hear Rose slamming her bedroom door, sliding the lock into place. Annabelle sighed heavily, finished her meal and then went to bed.

Rose was fuming and Ten had long since realised then when Rose was in a bad mood, it was incredibly difficult to reason with her. Rose took deep breaths and Ten sipped on his tea, trying not to further anger the situation.

"She has some nerve," Rose snarled and Ten nodded. "I mean, I know Annabelle's been through a lot, we both have. And I thought we'd I dunno connected or something. But she was being so…judgemental," Rose sounded upset now rather than angry. "I mean, why does everyone assume the worst of me? Clara and the Doctor both told me to stay away from you. They all seem to think that I am going to mess things up for you and Martha and that's not what I want."

"Then what do you want Rose?" Ten asked her gently, though the question was as much aimed at himself as her. He knew why he was here, in his heart and he truthfully, didn't want to remind himself. He needed to get out, before he ended up destroying the best thing in his life. The Doctor and Clara might have thought the worst of them, but Ten wasn't entirely sure that they were unjustified in doing so.

"I want you," she replied, her voice quiet. "I want you to tell me the truth and I want to know if you still love me, the way that you used to. And then I want you to tell me that you feel that way about Martha, so that you know that you're with her for the right reasons."

Ten couldn't answer that. He had forgotten how angry he had been at her for leaving him, how much he had hated her for what she had done. Rose had left him high and dry, ran away from any commitment and left him to suffer alone. And Martha had been his salvation. She had cared for him in ways that Rose never could. She never made his blood boil the way Rose did, but that was both good and bad. Martha was safe, Martha was comfort and Martha would never run away if things got difficult.

"I love her in a different way to the way that I loved you," Ten replied, deflecting the question about his feelings for Rose, because he didn't have an answer. "But no less strongly. You are two very different people Rose and you give me very different things. I chose Martha a long time ago. You chose Mickey. I don't know what gives you the right to come back here and choose again."

"You didn't choose Martha," Rose replied, clearly hurt by his comment. "You chose me. Martha was your consolation prize. She gave you things that you thought you needed because I hurt you. You're scared to admit that you love me because of what happened last time. But I'm not going to run again. I'm here for you Ten, whatever you choose."

At this moment, she leaned in to kiss him and Ten snapped to reality.

"I'm engaged," he said coldly.

"So?" Rose's smile ignited the fire in his heart and he swore loudly, running his hands through his hair. "What is it going to be Ten? Me, or Martha?"

"Clara!" he shouted, rolling off the bed and taking out his phone. "I choose Clara. Because right now, she's the only human being on the planet that I want to talk to. Rose, I did love you, but this is wrong. I'm wrong. I should never have come here tonight. Please, don't come chasing after me and don't say anything to Martha."

"David," Rose said in a voice so soft that he turned back to her. "I wouldn't say anything to Martha. I would never forgive myself if I got in the way of something real between you and her. But the fact that you're here with me and not with her, doesn't that say something about your relationship?"

Ten paused for a moment before pulling out his phone and calling Clara. He left the house, Rose deciding not to follow.

"Hello? David?"

"Clara?" Ten took a deep breath. "Can we meet? I need help."

"You went to see Rose." It was a statement, not a question. Clara didn't sound angry, she sounded sad, and sympathetic, as though she had known in her heart that it was going to happen but that she was really hoping that Ten would be sensible enough to resist. In all honesty, Ten had been hoping that he would be sensible enough to resist. But he had thrown himself in at the deep end. And he knew it was a mistake. Because as much as he hated to admit it, Rose was his Achilles heel. Not matter how much she had hurt him, he couldn't stop himself from going after her, it was as if she had the pin code to his actions. And she was toxic. She brought out sides of him that he wasn't proud of. But she also made him feel alive, as if no part of him would ever feel dulled again.

Clara met him at a bar halfway between her house and Annabelle's and she promised him that she had said nothing to the Doctor. And they talked for hours. Ten was confused and angry and he didn't know what to do, but he knew that he loved Martha and that he wanted to marry her. Clara was sympathetic and she was kind, but she also told Ten exactly what he needed to hear. That Rose was at least partially right. He had to stop fucking around. He had to make a decision. Because if he was marrying Martha, Rose could not be a part of his life anymore. And he wasn't ready for that. Ten made a decision. He needed time.

* * *

***Tomorrow: The Doctor does a fist pump, Rose has a shower and Annabelle makes tea again. Plus some interesting stuff happens.***


	15. Chapter 15: Breaking the News

***Crap, Chapter 15 already. Where on earth does the time go. I really need to write 5 chapters in two days, a challenge that I am excited to accept. Right, this chapter mops up some of the storylines left over by the previous one. I also want to delve a bit deeper into Rose's character with this one, so I really hope you guys like it. As ever, thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited and a massive shout out to my amazing friend Laura, whose help in writing Ten and Rose has been absolutely incredible and without her, this chapter wouldn't have happened. TPD***

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Clara and Ten had had to tell the Doctor. As much as Ten didn't want to tell his cousin that he had caved and gone to see Rose, he couldn't avoid it. He couldn't go home to Martha, not yet anyway, not until he had made a decision. Clara felt bad for him, because he was in a messy situation. The fact that he hadn't had a chance to properly get closure with Rose before she disappeared to the complete other side of the world with Mickey meant that he'd always had feelings for her and part of him, Clara suspected, had always hoped that she would come back. But, when she had, it hadn't been for him and it hadn't been her choice. And he had long since found someone else that he loved. Clara was there to offer advice and she had absolutely no qualms in telling Ten what she thought. He had to make a very hard decision and he would have to follow his heart. But when he asked her who she would pick, if she was him, she couldn't lie to him. Rose had broken his heart once and he deserved better than to be her consolation prize.

Ten ended up staying for almost a week, mulling over his decision. He had told Martha that he needed to go abroad for a few days, on a business trip. The Doctor, naturally, was supportive, at least in principle, but left most of the actual talking to Clara. Clara herself had ended up talking to Ten almost every night, as he swung back and forth. By the end of the week, he had realised, no matter how confused he was about Rose, no matter how angry he could be with her or no matter how much he confessed that he still loved her, his thoughts towards Martha did not change. He still wanted to marry her. And ultimately, that was what was important. He loved Martha and he wanted to marry her and whatever else was going on in his life, she had been the one who was always there for him. And she deserved better than him.

So, Ten called Martha and told her he would back the next day and that he had missed her a lot. And, much to Clara's relief, he talked to the Doctor about doing more work from home so that he could spend a lot more time with Martha. This all sounded great to the Doctor, who was willing to do what it took to secure the extra time for his cousin. All that was left was for someone to talk to Rose. The Doctor dibsed that it wouldn't be him, and then did a fist pump when he was a ten year old boy. Ten and Clara exchanged a look and then Ten did his special smile and Clara frowned.

"Oh no!" she protested, as Ten's smile widened and he gave her his puppy dog eyes. "Are you kidding me Ten? I mean if you're not planning on leaving your fiancé for her, the least you could do is have the balls to tell her yourself!"

"Clara," Ten was serious now and Clara knew what the outcome was going to be. "I know that to you, I'm not taking this seriously, but Rose has this effect on me. If I'm going to make a clean break, then I have to stay away from her, or she'll suck me back in. She has this…"

"I get it!" Clara interrupted, waving a hand as Ten did a very Doctor-esque fist pump. "I swear to God, you can definitely tell that you two are related sometimes, you are both utterly useless. Oh relax, I'm here to help and guide you two idiots through your lives!" she said with a wry smile as they grumbled. "Right, I'll go round and check on Rose and Annabelle later, I meant to call in on the Ponds anyway." She hoped that her voice didn't betray her. "Doctor, do we need anything while I'm out? I'll stop off at Tesco on the way home to pick up some milk."

"No," he replied, sticking his head briefly in the kitchen and seemingly doing a mental check. "Although it's been a while since we had a takeaway and I'm hankering for a burger, so could you grab something from the takeout?"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes as she and Ten got to their feet to leave. "The things I do for you eh?" She skipped across the room in a heartbeat and propelled herself into the Doctor's arms. He hadn't even been looking, but he swirled, caught her and picked her up as she wrapped her legs around him for support. Their lips met and they were both smiling as they kissed. After a couple of moments, Ten cleared his throat.

"I'll just uh, let myself out shall I?" he asked with an awkward look on his face. This sent Clara into a fit of giggles as the Doctor set her down and they hugged briefly, eyes locking and he kissed the top of her head.

"Hang on David," Clara said, shooting one final, longing look back over her shoulder to the Doctor who hadn't stopped staring at her as she had turned away from him. "I'm coming."

"How do you two do that?" he asked when they were outside.

"Do what?" Clara asked in confusion, as they strolled on down the street. It was getting colder but she didn't need a coat over her light blue dress and matching cardigan.

"Be so in tune with each other?" he asked sadly and Clara felt guilty pangs run through her. "You seem to have a whole other language that us mere mortals cannot interpret. You don't even need to look at each other to tell what the other is thinking, it's frightening."

"Practice," Clara shrugged. "I love the Doctor but relationships take work Ten. Five years of spending large amounts of every day together and you become more than just a couple. You become a team. You become a partnership. You fight, sure. You get angry with each other and there will be awkward moments. But the more fights you get through, the more times you get angry and the more awkward moments you experience, the easier that they become to deal with. That's love Ten. Love is never giving up and love is doing everything that you can to be with someone, whatever it takes. Whatever the consequences."

"You know a lot about love," Ten mused. "Wait, don't tell me? Experience right? I bet you and the Doctor can handle anything. I mean, you lost Tom, you got through Jessie and River and God knows what else. I mean, if that can't break you, what can?"

"Don't ask those sorts of questions Ten," Clara laughed. "The universe is not merciful."

"Hmm," he seemed to muse this. "Did the Doctor tell you about Vastra and Jenny?"

Clara snorted. "You mean after he finally 'worked out' what they had been being so mysterious about? I say 'worked out', the idiot never got even close to working out the right answer. He had a flowchart as well and he still didn't even get close, it was hilarious to watch. No yeah he told me, I think it's sweet, don't you?"

"Well if anyone should be adopting a baby, it's Vastra and Jenny," Ten chuckled. "They make a great couple and I suspect that they'd be amazing parents. Vastra would be so brilliantly strict, all glaring and firm words but with subtle smiles and winks to let them know that she is still fun. Whereas Jenny would be all fun and happy and cute and gentle, but when she needed to be, she'd be the one they were more scared of than Vastra!"

"Great summation," Clara chuckled. "I mean they're already basically parents to Strax!" They laughed at that for a moment, when Clara realised Ten was still looking at her. "I don't think I'd ever be able to do it," she said suddenly and Ten's eyebrow arched. "Adopt I mean. I mean, I'd always just think, if the child wasn't mine and the Doctor's, wasn't made by us, if I didn't have that connection…oh I don't know, I'm probably being silly."

"Not silly," Ten reassured her, a smile obvious on his face. "I know where you're coming from Clara. But you and the Doctor, you make a more perfect couple than even Vastra and Jenny. I know that if and when the Doctor and you decide to have children of your own, you two will rock it. I wish Martha and I were that rock solid."

"Ten," Clara paused, so many thoughts and things to say swirling around inside her brain. She and the Doctor hadn't discussed talking to Ten, but it was something that would have to happen sooner or later anyway. Still, he was the Doctor's cousin and this wasn't the moment. Nor was it the moment to call him out on his subliminal attacking of his own relationship.

"What is it Clara?"

"Nothing."

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Clara had found herself dreading the meeting with Annabelle and Rose, but when she got to Annabelle's house, for she could never really think of it as Rose's house, considering how long Annabelle had lived there and how many nights over there had Clara had had over there, she realised that she wasn't. She knew exactly what she was going to say. As she approached the house, she remembered one night, about four years ago, when she had crashed in at 3am, crying. The Doctor had done something, it was so long ago that Clara couldn't even remember what, but it was enough to piss Clara off. And she had said some things that she would the next morning regret and spend a good few months trying to take back. And she had then drank too much, gone over to Annabelle's to escape the Doctor and Clara had cried on Annabelle's shoulder for hours, until the break of dawn. It was times like that that Annabelle showed her true colours, as an amazing friend.

Clara rapped on the door and Annabelle answered, her face brightening up upon seeing Clara. She pulled Clara into a hug that wasn't lacking in passion but was still on the tentative side and then invited her in. Rose was skulking about upstairs; Clara could hear her huffing and puffing. Clara shot Annabelle a look and Annabelle shook her head once slowly. They had both experienced Rose in a bad mood and it wasn't a pretty sight. But Clara wasn't overly bothered with it. She knew exactly how to deal with people when they were in foul moods and you had to give them news that would only annoy them more. She just had to pretend that she was talking to a Year 11 or to a Sixth-former. She would put on her most firm voice and her face would be a mask of authority, with just a hint of sympathy. Rose had just gone into the shower, so Clara did a little dress rehearsal in her head as Annabelle made them tea. They sat in the kitchen and Annabelle shot a hesitant look upstairs before turning to look at Clara.

"I take it you're here to break bad news?" she asked in a voice that made it clear that she didn't envy Clara. Clara nodded. She didn't envy herself. Annabelle whistled and shot Clara a nervous grin. "Well, good luck. But anyway, how're things with you?"

Clara found herself rattling off a list of menial teaching things, because the truth was, she didn't want to admit that in the week since she'd seen Annabelle, all she had thought about was Tom. She hadn't been able to get him out of her head since Annabelle's accusations and it troubled her. Annabelle didn't blame her, but the thought had been running through Clara's head almost endlessly. She had spent five years supressing such thoughts and now it had been bothering her. That and she was going to take a pregnancy test that evening. They had been having sex so much lately that Clara was sure it would happen sooner or later. The Doctor had been so impatient and so childishly animated that she had told him she would take another test to appease him. And also to appease herself. She didn't want to admit quite how much she wanted this. That wasn't the problem. That wasn't why she was nervous.

"Oh and I'm checking out that new hair and nail place on Church Street that you recommended tomorrow!" Clara finished with a smile. "So what's new with you?"

"That was a whole lot of nothing Clara Oswald," Annabelle smirked. "Still not pregnant I take it?"

"It's been two months!" Clara responded. "It will happen, I'm sure of it."

"Then why don't you sound sure of it?" Annabelle replied gently.

"Because I'm scared to admit how much I want it," Clara replied quietly. "And I'm terrified that if I want it too much and if I don't get what I want, that it will break me down. The more I want it, the more nervous I get with every negative test. And I'm being stupid. I'm young, in love and I've just started trying. I'm not even married yet. This is all just me being crazy and I don't want to be one of those girls who gets obsessed with having a child. Because it's not about that. It's about the Doctor. I don't want a kid I want…"

"A family," Annabelle finished for her. "With him. You want a house and a garden and three wonderful children, all named Annabelle, with long brown hair and mischievous smiles."

"No!" Clara snorted. "Any children of mine will have good names. Proper names!" Annabelle punched her lightly. "I mean, I don't want all of that. I just want the Doctor and I feel as though a child with the Doctor is…eugh I hate all of this, I feel like such a stereotype."

"You're allowed to want to have a child with the man that you love more than anything and are going to marry Clara," Annabelle replied reasonably. "I'm certainly not going to hold it against you. What I am going to hold against you is the fact that my housemate is going to be in a foul mood forever and now that she's out of the shower, you have no excuse for not talking to her."

"She's probably changing."

"She's been out of the shower for half an hour Clara, stop being a wuss and get up there."

Clara sulked for a moment before winking at Annabelle and heading upstairs. She took the stairs slowly, rehearsing her thoughts over and over, sure that she could respond to what Rose could throw at her. She knocked on Rose's door and waited patiently for a reply. After what seemed to Clara to be an age, because she sensed that Rose was doing it deliberately, Rose opened the door and, upon realising it was Clara, shot her a filthy look. This could only go downhill.

"Let me guess," Rose said in a condescending tone. "Ten can't say that he's chosen Martha to my face, because I have some magical effect on him that will mean the simple act of being in my presence will force him into some catastrophic error. Do me a favour, he's a coward Clara. We both know it. I should have realised that coming back here was a mistake, Ten is a loyal person, he was never going to walk on Martha and if I'm honest, it was wrong of me to ask him."

"Yes, it was," Clara replied, pretence dropped. "I don't mind telling you that I think he made the right choice. I'm here for you as a friend Rose and so is Annabelle, but think for a second that that means that I approve of what went down between you and Ten."

"Clara," Rose sighed in reply. "You feel as though you have to be there for everybody. Because you've clearly got some abandonment issues of some sort, clearly you've been in situations where nobody was there for you. I know what that's like. When I heard that my mum was dead, it destroyed me. Literally felt like someone had placed a grenade in my soul and set it off. But you know that better than anyone. I can see it on your face. You've lost your mum. And you felt like that was it. Well for me, it was it. And as much as I appreciate everything you've done for me, you need to stop playing the hero. Because the world doesn't need more people like you and it punishes the people who try. If you keep throwing yourself into everyone's lives, keep trying to help people who you either don't like or feel obligated to help, then you are going to burn yourself out."

"I don't need to be told how I felt when my mum died," Clara responded icily. "Has it occurred to you that maybe the way I act is a good thing and my choice? Annabelle, Rory, they're my friends. People I care about a lot and people who would do the same thing for me if I was in their position. I would rather burn myself out for people who matter, people who deserve to be burnt out for, than give up on them. And if you fall under that umbrella Rose, then you fall under that umbrella. And I do care, because you needed help and you still do. You cling to Ten because he's a way to forget the fact that people who you thought would always be there; Mickey, your mum, aren't any more. And losing Ten again just drives all of that home. So maybe, Rose, you need someone like me. Someone trying to help and someone who just wants to be a friend. Someone who can help fill the void."

"I don't need you!" Rose spat, and Clara realised she was crying now. "I need my mum."

And Clara felt all of her anger melt away. She could see herself. She had lost her mum when was 16, still a kid and still able to be excused from it. And even then, she had been pressured into moving on, by her dad, her therapist. And where had that got her? Into an alcohol induced stupor, only broken when she finally realised that she had hit rock bottom and couldn't go on. But Rose? She was 25, she was alone and expected to move on with her life. She couldn't sit in her room and just cry or drink 24/7, the way Clara had done. So Rose had hidden her sadness from herself, the way Clara had hidden it from other people. Rose had nobody to talk to, no shoulder to cry on and no way of processing. And the only person left in the world who loved her had chosen another woman.

Clara stepped in and hugged Rose tightly. Rose sobbed and Clara held her gently, the way that she wished there had been someone to hold her. It took Rose a moment to come to her senses and push her off. Clara bit her lip.

"Clara, just leave me alone!" Rose's voice was broken and Clara bowed her head. "I know you're trying to help, but you can't. Nobody can help me."

Rule One. Rose had to realise for herself that she needed help. Clara was the same. Her moment came a long time ago, lying in a shower, when she realised that all she had needed in the world was a friend. When she had realised that drinking herself into a coma and shutting out the world did not help her and that there were better ways to cope.

"Rose," Clara said as gently as she could, right before Rose was about to slam her door. "When you want to talk and you will want to talk, Annabelle and I are here."

Rose slammed the door. Clara sighed sadly and turned back to see Annabelle stood behind her, a sad smile on her face. Clara didn't need to say anything else, Annabelle understood. There was nothing that they could do until Rose was willing to let them help her. It was a lesson that they had both learned and it had been a long and hard one.

"Why don't you join me at the hair and nail place tomorrow?" Clara asked, diverting the attention away from Rose, who she was sure was listening at the door. They both shot a nervous look in the direction of Rose's bedroom.

"That sounds great!" Annabelle replied enthusiastically. "I'd love to."

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***And tomorrow: Rory has a beer, the Doctor sits in his study and Clara gets slapped. Oh and it's also the biggest chapter of the story so far by a country mile.***


	16. Chapter 16: Collision Course

***Hey one and all. Big chapter this one, so I'll try hard not to keep you from it. Last night much writing took place, but I'm still struggling to stay miles ahead. In any case, I really hope you enjoy this chapter and as ever, thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. Please let me know what you think of this one and I'll see you all tomorrow. The Potter Doctor***

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As Clara knocked on the front door to the Ponds, she could hear the titanic row going on inside. She flinched and tried to step away before the door opened. She failed miserably, as Amy opened the door, looking incredibly flustered as she pressed her lips upwards for Clara. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face pale and it was all too obvious that she had been crying. Clara bit her lip and put on her brightest smile. If Amy wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong, Clara was happy to go along with that. Amy looked like she was about to start crying again and the awkwardness washed over them until she heard Rory shout that he was going out and stormed into view, his angry face barely altering when he saw Clara. He grabbed his jacket off of the coat stand and strode past Amy, leaning to one side to avoid touching her as he passed her. He touched Clara's shoulder gently and shot her a look of apology. Clara stood for a moment, paralysed, as Amy shouted Rory's name once in desperation. Clara looked at her desperately, unsure of what to say or what to do. Amy stared at her, pure hatred on her face. Clara bit her lip. Amy stepped forward and slapped Clara so hard that Clara's head span. She staggered backwards, clutching her face.

"Are you coming Oswin?" Rory called over his shoulder, having not seen Amy hit her and Clara flinched at the sound of it. She mouthed her apologies to Amy and chased after Rory, who had stormed off at a brisk pace. He was already out of the driveway and hurrying off down the street as Clara raced after him, falling into step beside him after a few moments. He was staring at the floor and Clara overtook him, spinning so that she was facing him and she grabbed him to stop him charging past her, like he tried to do.

"Rory!" she cried, as he shrugged her off and kept walking. "Where are we going?"

"Somewhere with alcohol," Rory replied gruffly. Clara pursed her lips and nodded. This was all her fault. She should have told Rory sooner. It was obvious what their fight was about. The job. The job that Amy had lost. The job that she had lost and told the Doctor that she had lost but not Rory. The job that she still hadn't been able to replace. The job that Clara had promised the Doctor that she wouldn't tell Rory Amy had lost. The job that Clara had told Rory that Amy had lost.

They walked quickly, Clara hanging back in case Rory decidedly he suddenly wanted to go a different way. Their phone conversation the previous night had been a hurried one. Rory had been suspicious that Amy had been sleeping around because she had been home during the day when she shouldn't have been and she was generally acting very suspiciously, especially when it came to credit card bills and the like. Clara had broken her promise to the Doctor, just as she had been aching to for weeks and Rory had made an odd noise and hung up. Clearly, he hadn't taken the news well. And he had taken it out on Amy. They walked for about twenty minutes; until they reached a local pub that Clara remembered was one of Rory's favourites. They headed inside; Rory ordered a shot and a beer and downed the shot before Clara was even on her bar stool. She asked for water. She had a feeling that she would want to be sober for what was to follow.

"So, Amy's been lying to me," Rory said in a very un-Rorylike tone of voice that made Clara want to wince. He sounded angry, upset and worse, like he was finished. He had given up. There was resentment but also resignation in his voice and it broke Clara's heart.

"I'm sorry Rory," Clara said gently, as if it made any difference. Judging by his face, it made absolutely none at all. "I'm sorry that you had to find out this way."

"I don't care that she lost her job!" Rory spat and Clara guided him from the bar to a table because they were getting looks. She shushed him as he started to shout and thankfully he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, which hurt Clara even more but at least people weren't staring.

"I never would have cared. I love her Clara. I don't care if she's a model or a teacher or a desk clerk or a journalist or she works in the coffee shop with Annabelle. What I care about is that I poured my heart and soul out to her. Every week at counselling, I've told her every single one of my deepest secrets, my darkest desires and this is how she repays me. She's been lying through her teeth to me for weeks, for months in fact. She sat there, lapping up all of my stories whilst holding back on me. Our marriage was at breaking point Clara. We were at breaking point. And she lied."

"Rory," Clara tried as she realised how badly this was coming off. "I'm sure she was only doing it to protect you from it until she got another job."

"Protect me from what?" Rory snorted. "She was embarrassed. And she was upset and she didn't tell the one person in the world who she should feel like she's able to talk to about this sort of stuff. And what does that tell you Clara? It tells you that she couldn't tell me, but she could tell the Doctor. If you lost your job, who would you tell first?"

Clara didn't answer. Rory knew what she would say and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of telling him what he already knew. He clearly felt that Amy had betrayed him and all of a sudden, Clara felt guilt rising up within her. She was starting to suspect that telling Rory may not have been her wisest move.

"She said a lot of things Clara," Rory continued, whilst simultaneously drinking his beer at an alarming rate. "But it was all noise. Excuses. The simple fact is, everything she said was true and it doesn't change anything. She didn't tell me and she didn't want to tell me. She actively tried to cover it up. I understand how she felt and why she felt it but we're married. And if we're married, then that should mean that we tell each other these things. We share a life Clara, and Amy just doesn't seem to care. If she can lie to me for so long about something so very important, then who knows, I don't know."

Rory seemed broken. And Clara didn't know what to say or how to react. She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times and moved around the table so that she was sat next to him and put her arm around him. He shrugged her off the first time but the second time her arm snaked around his shoulder he curled into a ball and just sobbed. Clara felt useless. Utterly useless. She racked her brains and kept thinking the same thought: "What would mum do?" She didn't have an answer. For the life of her, she did not know what her mother would do. And this was as much Clara's fault as Amy's. Her cheek still felt red raw and she had deserved it. Rory needed to get out of here, away from the world. His beer was gone and he was now reduced to a sobbing wreck.

"Let's get you out of here!" Clara insisted. "Come on, you're coming home with me."

She briefly considered the fact that the Doctor would find out that she had lied to his face and broken her promise to him, but she waved it off. He would already know. He might not even get there when they arrived, chances would be that he was with Amy. And in any case, as annoyed as the Doctor was with Clara, he wouldn't turn away Rory and she could work things out with her husband-to-be later. Rory was more important in this moment. Clara supported him as they stood and made their way out of the pub. He had started blabbering incoherently and Clara had to guide him as they walked down the street, getting odd looks from almost everyone that they passed. Clara cursed and muttered at him to pull it together but frankly she didn't blame him. It looked as though their marriage was hanging by a thread and Rory didn't know what to do.

They eventually made it back to Clara's and Clara let herself in, not bothering to knock in case the Doctor wasn't in. She was about to usher Rory onto the sofa when she froze. Amy was sitting there. She flew to her feet; sadness had been replaced by blind rage. Rory backed off, terrified of her. This proved to be a mistake, as it wasn't Rory that Amy was hurtling towards, but Clara. Clara let out a squeak as Amy barrelled into her and they hit the floor, knocking the wind out of Clara. She squealed as Amy took a fistful of her hair and used it to stop her rolling away as her fist collided with Clara's head. Clara did manage to turn the second time the fist came down, so it smashed the side of her head instead of her nose again and then she kicked Amy in the chest, throwing her off. Clara tumbled after her as Amy yanked at her hair and Clara howled in pain as it tore at her scalp. Amy had flown into another punch but this time Rory had had time to react and throw himself in the way to stop Amy. Luckily, by this point, the Doctor had thundered downstairs and was trying to restrain Amy.

Clara staggered back. She felt as though the right side of her face had been bludgeoned in, her nose was bleeding and as she felt the side of her head, there was blood there as well. Clara felt like crying, but between Amy's shrieks of rage and anguish and a stunned, barely holding it together, the room had enough people in pieces already. Clara didn't want to look at the Doctor, scared of what she would see. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Amy broke free of the Doctor's grasp and thundered upstairs, the sound of a door slamming in the background. Clara looked at Rory, who still looked too stunned to move.

"I'm so sorry Clara," Rory said quietly. "You didn't deserve that."

The Doctor hadn't spoken. Clara finally looked at him and the look on his face broke her heart. He was disappointed. He didn't hesitate to cross the room in a heartbeat and pulled her into a hug, but it wasn't a Doctor hug. He kissed the top of her head but there was no emotion behind it.

"Rory, fix her up," the Doctor instructed, his voice emotionless. "She knows where the medical kit is."

Clara didn't say anything. She had nothing to say. The Doctor went upstairs and suddenly she felt alone. So very alone. Rory was fussing over her and Clara realised that he had sent himself into nurse mode. She fetched the first-aid kit and sat in menial silence. Rory muttered every now and then and talked to her about her injuries reassuringly. He had put himself into the zone. For the next half an hour or so, whilst he tended to Clara, he didn't have to be Rory, whose marriage was in serious trouble and whose wife had just battered Clara. He could be Nurse Williams, tending to a patient. A girl who got into a fight, nothing more than that. She wished she could abstract out but she just kept remembering the Doctor's face. Care, of course, always care. But anger and upset. All of these emotions just bubbling under surface, just behind his eyes, covered by a mask of pure disappointment. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe her. Clara wasn't sure she could believe herself.

Rory was finished and they sat in an uncomfortable silence. Rory offered tea and rushed into the kitchen. Clara heard footsteps upstairs and was thankful to see Amy come downstairs, not the Doctor. The fact that it was the person who wanted to kill her that she was more willing to see scared her. The fact that she didn't want to talk to the Doctor, was terrified of it, scared her. She had things to say, and so did he. This went way beyond the Ponds. Clara stared at Amy, who was looking back coldly. Not quite the blind hatred of earlier, but not exactly an apology either. Rory returned with the tea, brushing right past Amy. At this point, Amy's entire exterior changed and Clara knew that look well enough. She had been masking her pain, twisting it into hatred for Clara, when in truth, she was heartbroken, suffering.

"Rory?" she asked in a voice so quiet that Clara got the urge to stand up and pull Amy into a hug. She should never have got involved. This was all her fault. "Rory, can we go home?"

"I'm going to stay with my parents for a few days," Rory replied coldly. "I need some time, to clear my head. To work out some things. You can go home if you want."

"No, it's okay," Amy replied, trying to save face. "I'm going to go and stay with my sister. You're more than welcome to go home."

"I'm staying with my parents," Rory replied. "Talk soon Clara. Thanks for everything and I'm sorry again."

He strode out the house and Clara was left alone with Amy, following Rory's abrupt departure, his tea still sat undrunk on the side. Clara tried to avoid eye contact with Amy. She hadn't known that Amy had a sister and Clara liked to think that she knew Amy quite well and Rory even better. The Doctor hadn't said anything. Maybe he didn't know. Or maybe he hadn't told her. This last thought pained Clara.

"He's in his study," Amy said in an even voice. "I've never seen him like this. So…cold. So emotionless."

Clara didn't bother to tell Amy the truth. She had never seen him so emotional. He was wrestling with every conflicting emotion known to man, all just bubbling behind the surface. He was being cold and emotionless because he was so afraid of losing control, even for a moment, that he couldn't show any emotion; couldn't let himself slip. That was the worst thing, knowing that he loved her so much and yet he couldn't bring himself to show it, scared that it would result in him losing his temper. And Clara.

Amy had left Clara alone. She was dreading it. The walk up the stairs would be one of the hardest walks of her life. She took a numerous amount of deep breaths, every step proving harder than the last. She wanted to cry. She needed to do this. She needed to face the Doctor. When she reached the top of the stairs, she could see the top of his head through the open study door; she could hear his deep breathing. She took another step and another. Her heart was pounding in her chest and before she knew it, she was in the dark study. The Doctor knew she was there. He always knew. But he was facing away from her, probably closing his eyes and frowning, just a little. Clara didn't know what to say to him, didn't know how to begin. He probably felt the same.

"Doctor?" Clara asked, her voice breaking and the tears were really actually falling now.

"Clara?" the voice that replied sounded weary, as if this was the last thing in the world that the Doctor wanted to be doing. It was the last thing in the world that Clara wanted to be doing, but they couldn't walk away from it. "How's your head?"

"Fine," Clara responded weakly. In truth, it was agony, but her heart was hurting more.

"Good!" the relief in his voice gave her hope. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you. Or…"

He trailed off. Did he know? "Doctor, I am so sorry," Clara whispered. The lack of a response made her want to scream. "Why can't you at least look at me?"

"Because I know what your face looks like. And it will break my heart."

"You've seen me beaten up before!" Clara responded, but they both knew that wasn't what he meant.

"We both know that's not what I meant. Clara, I don't really want to talk to you right now."

"Because you're angry?" she asked, but it wasn't a question so much of a confirmation of what she already knew. She could see his flinch and his head was in his hands, or so she guessed.

"Because I'm everything!" he shouted. Up until now he had been speaking softly, but it was as if the stupor was broken. The Doctor kicked his desk and let out a low hiss of pain. Clara didn't move a muscle. "I am everything Clara! I am so angry, so unbelievably angry. With you, with Amy, with myself. And I'm hurt, stung, like you dragged my heart through a thorn bush. And I'm shocked and disappointed and most of all, I'm in love. Because I am so completely and utterly in love with you and I am angry at myself for being so weak. Angry at myself because right now, all I want to do is wrap you in my arms and tell you that it's going to be okay, that everything is going to be okay. And you lied to me. You took information that you knew you shouldn't have, that I trusted you with. And you promised me that you wouldn't tell, you promised. Our promises are supposed to mean everything Clara."

He was on his feet now but still not facing her. "And you broke that trust. You shattered it like it was nothing. And the net result?" She flinched at this. "You could have destroyed their marriage. Not solo, obviously, they are both at fault, both so completely at fault. But we promised to stay neutral Clara, we knew what it would be like if we dragged ourselves into this. And you…you lied to me. How can I trust you?"

"Trust?" Clara choked and he flinched. "You want to talk to me about trust? You of all people? After all the lies you tell, the secrets you keep. I know I fucked up, massively, but this isn't about trust, it was never about trust. I trust you, despite your lies, I trust you, despite your secrets. And you knew I'd tell Rory. Don't stand there, all angry and brooding and tell me for a second that you didn't tell me so that I'd tell Rory."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" he wavered but Clara was on the warpath now.

"You lying sack of shit!" she yelled. "You know me, better than anyone. You knew, that the longer Amy kept lying to Rory, the more likely that I would crack and tell him. You knew. And that's exactly what you wanted. You wanted me to do your dirty work for you, so that you wouldn't have to tell Rory yourself. So don't play the disappointed partner, because I did what you knew and wanted me to do!"

"No!" he roared back and she swivelled so that she could finally see his face. It was twisted by fury and pain and love. He didn't know what to do or what to say and when he saw her own face, twisted into the exact same emotions, he flinched, just for a moment. The mask slipped and it was overtaken by sheer horror, a mirror of Clara's own. Then their walls were back up and they were going hammer and tongs once more. "No, you don't get to play this back on me, this isn't my fault. I'm angry at you. I was hoping, Clara, praying that you wouldn't tell Rory. I wanted Amy to tell him, more than anything. I was really, really, hoping that you wouldn't."

"So what, you were testing me?" Clara laughed at the notion. "This isn't about the Ponds, Doctor, what are you really angry about?"

"I think you know," he shot back. She did, but she was damned if she was going to be the one to say it. He did know then. Of course he knew. He was the Doctor, he always knew. But Clara also knew a thing or two. She wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"Why did you manipulate me?" she screamed.

"Why did you lie to me?" his voice was so loud it resonated off the walls.

"Why are you seeing River Song again?" Clara unleashed what she'd been holding back for weeks, even from herself, partly through trust and partly through desperation not to know the answer. And then he said it. Well he didn't so much say it, but exploded it, so loudly in such a broken voice that it absolutely shattered the atmosphere.

"WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE PREGNANT?"

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***And tomorrow: Oh hell you're not even getting any hints this time, sorry.***


	17. Chapter 17: Trust

***Hello one and all. Bit of a mean chapter ending yesterday, so this chapter picks up where we left off with some good old fashioned cliffhanger resolution. I really hope you like what I've done with it, as for me the Whouffle relationship is utterly central to the story in every way and I wanted to show where they were at. As ever, please please let me know what you thought as I value your feedback so highly and as ever thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following and favouriting! TPD***

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They were there, stood in a moment of eternal calm. Clara was breathing so fast and so audibly, that she was unsure if she'd pass out. The pain in her head was splitting, her vision was starting to blur. Her heart was racing, stabs of pain rushing through her and she felt like she wanted to be sick. The Doctor looked desperate, like he needed an answer. Clara didn't know what to say to him. Another wave crashed across her vision and she stumbled slightly. She clutched a hand to her head and used her other to try and steady herself and the Doctor's face had shifted entirely, all anger and pain and hurt melting away as he became a mask of care and love. He was by her side in an instant, calling her name as she felt herself slide towards the floor. He caught her and he was pressing her hair off of her face, pressing his forehead gently against hers. He steadied her and Clara's wave of dizziness passed. She stared at the Doctor, who gazed back into her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Clara whispered, unable to make a louder noise. "I love you."

"I love you too," the Doctor grinned. "We're going to have a baby."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she told him, crying now as she pressed her injured head gently against his shoulder. "I should have told you. But I was so scared that something would go wrong with the baby. I just wanted to be sure, to make sure I wasn't going to screw it up. And I don't want anything to go wrong. I want us to be happy and I messed all that up."

"No you didn't," he replied. "I should have known you'd tell me. I only found out because you were pretty bad at getting rid of the test. You should have known that I'd see it when I took the bins out."

"I think part of me wanted you to find it," she replied honestly. "I don't know why but I think I didn't want to tell you, because I couldn't bring myself to see the look on your face. All that joy and all that happiness and if we lost that, I mean if I was wrong, to have to retract that happiness would kill me."

"Clara," the Doctor was guiding her gently out the room, his eyes never leaving hers for more than a split-second. "As long as I'm with you, nothing that happens will retract the happiness. I will always be happy with you. Now, you need a lie down, we can talk more about everything else when you wake up. I'll explain about River and…"

"You don't have to!" Clara's voice was suddenly sharp and they stopped walking towards the bedroom. The Doctor frowned and Clara looked at him, all seriousness. "You shouldn't have to explain yourself to me Doctor, I trust you completely. Even where River Song is concerned. Maybe that's me being naïve and maybe I should be angry at you for lying to me about it, especially considering how long you've not been telling me but…" She took a deep breath. "If you didn't tell me, then you must have had a bloody good reason for not doing so and whatever that reason is, it doesn't matter. Because I trust you completely."

"How?" he asked with a laugh and she smiled at that. "How can you trust me Clara? I'm a liar, you said it yourself that I'm proficient at it. I let you tell Rory, hell I even manipulated you into it. I didn't mean to and I didn't want to, but I think I know you well enough to know exactly what you would do and I think pretending that I was some innocent party is not good for me."

"But I knew what I was doing," Clara insisted. "I didn't do it because of you, I didn't even think about you in truth. I did it for Rory and look where that got them. And as for trust…you lie to me. But you have reasons. You never lie without reason Doctor and you love me enough that I know you would never cheat on me. Besides, if you never lied to me, then I wouldn't need to trust you."

"River is Amy's sister!" the Doctor came out with and Clara stumbled back in shock. The Doctor caught her and kissed her lightly. Clara stared at him, her eyes wide. "I know, that was my reaction when I found out. I've been seeing River to try and put up a united front against Amelia, she's been very obstinate and unhelpful towards both of regarding a certain Mr Pond. Amy won't listen to reason, but she loves Rory and now everything is just messed up. They need to work out their differences. I need to call River," he muttered agitated all of a sudden and flinched, glancing at Clara.

"Go!" Clara smiled, kissing his cheek. "Call River, Amy will need all the help she can get. You meet River while I sleep."

The Doctor smiled and kissed her forehead. Clara let him put her to bed, and just when she thought he was gone, he returned with water, painkillers and enough sleeping pills to knock out a small horse. Clara swallowed the pills, downed the water and settled back under the covers, aware that the Doctor hadn't gone anywhere. He was still leaning over her until her eyes were unable to stay open anymore and the last thing she thought before she drifted into unconsciousness was that she was having a baby with the Doctor and everything would be okay, whatever happened next.

The Doctor had put Clara to bed, relieved that they had been able to clean things up. He had hated lying to Clara about River; he had been telling her the truth when he said that it burned up inside of him. But he didn't want to trouble her. He knew how she felt about River and how she was such a big part of his past. But Amy had needed help and River was the only person that the Doctor could turn to about such matters. He mused in his study as the phone rang and eventually, after a few long rings, River had picked up.

"Doctor?" she asked, an almost acidic tone to her voice. She hadn't called him sweetie in years. "Are you going to explain exactly what happened, or am I going to have to get it out of my sister, who was sobbing over the phone and will be over in ten minutes. What did Clara do?"

"What makes you think that it was Clara's fault?" the Doctor shot back, suddenly annoyed at how defensive he sounded. It wasn't Clara's fault but his. He must have known that telling her would result in Rory finding out. Whether or not he had manipulated her deliberately or not wasn't the point, the point was that it had happened and it was the Doctor's fault.

"Because Amy was crying down the phone and she sounded like she wanted to kill your fiancée," River replied, snapping now and the Doctor could feel her anger. "So I'll ask again, because as much as I'd love to hear you gush about how wonderful and innocent Clara is, you called me for a reason, so what happened?"

"Clara told Rory," the Doctor mumbled and she heard a sharp intake of breath down the other end of the phone. "And frankly I don't blame her. She's Rory's best friend River, she couldn't just sit back and watch Amy lie to him and destroy their marriage. I should have told Rory myself, rather than telling Clara and waiting for her to do it for me. You and me. We should have said something. If we weren't so close to her, if we weren't so…"

"You're saying if we were objective, we would have told Rory?" River sounded insulted by the idea. "What Clara should have done, is what we did. Wait it out. Sooner or later, Amy would get another job, tell Rory a version of the truth that suited her best and then they could have moved on with their lives."

"So you think it's more important to lie and scheme your way out of situations, rather than be honest with your partner?" the Doctor was pissed off now and made no attempt to hide it. "It was lying to Rory that got Amelia into this mess in the first place. You realise that right? Marriage is a two-way street. You can't spend weeks on end lying to the person you care about."

"So have you told Clara about me then?" There was a triumphant note in River's voice as if she had the Doctor pinned down. Before he could even answer, she came out with: "Thought not. Because you're scared that she'll overreact and then things between you will end up the same way that they have between Amy and Rory."

At this, the Doctor laughed out loud and River stopped speaking, utterly speechless as the Doctor chortled, holding his side to stop himself from laughing so hard.

"Clara knows," he replied, his voice amused. "I told her about you River and she also knows that you're Amy's sister. Because I trust Clara completely. And you know what? She worked out weeks ago that we were seeing each other, not sure how but she's far more resourceful than either of us give her credit for. And she didn't care. She just assumed that there was a reason we were meeting and that there was a reason I wasn't telling her. So River, care to take anymore pot shots at my relationship, or can we get back to what's important? Amy."

"Fine," River sounded slightly resentful and the Doctor knew that him having such a functional relationship didn't bother her so much as make her question things that she didn't normally have to question. She didn't understand trust on that sort of level. "What are we going to do?"

"She'll be with you soon," the Doctor replied. "You just need to keep her calm. Give Rory a few days, he'll come back and then they can work things out. Until then, you need to try and get Amy into a position where she's able to fight for her marriage. I'll try and get Clara to talk to Rory when she's feeling better; Amy took a few pot shots at her. If she wasn't so hysterical I'd be bloody furious. She should have been hitting me, not Clara. Look, Amy and Rory need to sit down and have a very long, very honest discussion about how they can move forward and indeed if they can move forward. Rory is understandably angry and I don't know what he thinks."

"So basically you called me to tell me that this is a wait and see approach?"

"Call it what you want River, but just make sure Amy's okay and that she's ready to fight for her marriage. I'll talk to you when we've spoken to Rory. We need to sort out this mess."

The Doctor hung up. He was sick and tired of talking to River. He was sick and tired of having to worry about the Ponds and his cousin. He just wanted to be with Clara and their baby and for everything to be okay. He felt a rush run through him and the Doctor jumped into the air, fist pumping as he did so. He was going to be a parent. A real parent. With Clara. It was the most amazing feeling in the world. He couldn't wait to tell Ten, and Amy and everyone else. Annabelle and Rory and her father and the Paternosters and it was all going to be amazing. The Doctor did a little jig. His child could grow up alongside Vastra and Jenny's, could be a big brother or sister like figure to any future kids that Ten and Martha or the Ponds had. The Doctor wanted to tell someone; he felt like he needed to tell someone. He racked his brains for someone who would both react properly but also who that Clara wouldn't mind him telling without checking with her. He grinned to himself. He knew just the person.

* * *

"Captain Jack Harkness," Jack answered lazily, smoking a cigar in his hot tub, a glass of whiskey on the side, Ianto Jones opposite him laughing. "How may I be of service?"

"You're not a Captain, Jack!" the Doctor's voice drifted down the phone as Jack took a puff of his cigar and joyfully exhaled. "But I have news. Big news. Can we meet?"

"I'm actually a little preoccupied at the moment," Jack replied casually, shooting Ianto a wink from across the tub, before downing his whiskey. "And I could be a Captain, you never know. Some day. Besides, both the ladies and men lap it up." This earned him a face off of Ianto. "Big business meeting Doctor, ten minutes, plenty at stake."

"You're in a hot tub with Ianto Jones, the liaison for Torchwood, you're smoking a Torpedo with a glass of Bells and you have no intention of leaving it for the next few hours unless you need a refill; although I strongly suspect the bottle is within the reach of your arm."

"It's a Perfecto, you're slipping," Jack replied coyly. "And how did you know Ianto was here? We only discussed asking him out last week."

"And yet I strongly suspected you asked him out that very same night and he fell very quickly and very hopelessly in love with you, just like they all do. Ianto can wait, when I say this is big news, I don't mean I got a new Bentley big."

"Bentley's are overrated anyway," Jack snorted. "Unless you get a 54 R-type Continental, those things are pure magic. I would give my right arm for one and believe me, I've tried." This earned him another look of pure incredulity from Ianto. Okay Doctor, I can meet you in an hour at Coutin's? You know that bar in…"

"Yes, I know it!" he replied with a sigh. "I'll see you there Jack and I appreciate you walking out on Ianto for this."

"What are friends for?" Jack sighed. "Sorry Ianto, we're going to have to cut this little rendezvous a tad short, I've got a Doctor's appointment to get to." He chuckled at this. No matter how many times he made that same joke, it was still funny. Ianto blinked; he clearly didn't get it. Jack rolled his eyes and stood, finishing his cigar and throwing it over his left shoulder. Ianto pulled a face but got up after Jack and they both climbed out of the tub, throwing towels around their lower halves. Jack and Ianto dried off and got dressed quickly, Jack frustrated but he told Ianto to come back the next day. Ianto said he'd think about it, but Jack knew that he'd be back. He really liked Ianto already, he was different from all the others. He didn't always flirt back and take Jack's crap. He called him out on things, with a smirk on his face the entire time. Working for Torchwood had clearly made Ianto an entirely different prospect to those that Jack usually faced.

Jack headed downtown, apprehensive but excited to find out what the Doctor had to tell him. The Doctor had always been intriguing to Jack as he was so completely unlike anyone that Jack had ever met before. His adoration for Clara alone was something that Jack couldn't understand. Not because of who Clara was, (if Jack could imagine anyone falling in love, he could see why they'd fall for Clara), but because the idea of being that attached to someone freaked him out. But more than that. The Doctor was closed off, he was mysterious and there were so many layers to him. He was capable of both the best and worst that humanity had to offer and Jack had never met someone who could be so rich, so famous and so successful and not give a shit about any of it. The Doctor gave almost everything he earned to charity but never said a word to anyone about it. He donated anonymously and sporadically, so that nobody would be able to track him down. Jack didn't understand it.

Jack arrived at Coutin's five minutes early and wasn't surprised in the slightest to see that the Doctor was already there. The Doctor was the sort of man who was always late where it didn't concern Clara, because he either didn't pay attention or ended up having sex with Clara. But when Clara was out of the picture or the meeting concerned her, he was always early. Clara was nowhere to be seen, but Jack wasn't worried. If anything had happened to her, the Doctor wouldn't be looking as if Christmas had come early. Well, that was an understatement. He looked like he was being taken to the North Pole to meet Santa and get a lifetime's supply of presents. Jack slipped into the table opposite him, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

"So what's so important?" he asked with a chuckle. "And where's your gorgeous fiancée? Could she not handle my outrageous flirting today? It's okay, some people can't, there's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Jack Harkness is a God after all."

"She's resting," the Doctor replied, ignoring Jack's incredible self-compliments. "She's had a really rough day, in more ways than one. But, what matters is…she's pregnant."

The Doctor looked as if saying it made it real. He was laughing hysterically, as if the world had given him something magical. It had done that. It had given him a family. And Jack didn't know what to say. He could see how happy the Doctor was and Jack was happy for him. They embraced and Jack bought champagne and they talked details. But what struck Jack was that this was part of the enigma. The enigma of family life and happy relationships

and all Jack could find himself thinking was: "Why don't I feel this way? Why don't I want this?" And the sad thing was, he had no answer.

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***And tomorrow: Annabelle talks to the Doctor, Clara talks to the Doctor and the Doctor talks to Clara's stomach. Enjoy!***


	18. Chapter 18: The Prospect of Tomorrow

***Right, so the last few chapters have been a bit chaotic. Tomorrow's chapter is Pond-centric with a sting in the tail but as for today, I just want to take a quick breather and get back to what we're all here for: Whouffle. So, a cute, fluffy, Whouffle chapter with plenty from both Clara and the Doctor's perspectives coming up. I really hope you guys like it. As ever, thank you so so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. TPD***

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Clara felt a lot better when she woke up. The Doctor was lying beside her and she realised that he had been watching her sleep. He blushed when she looked at him, as if he'd been caught out and she kissed his chin gently. They lay in a moment of perfect silence, uninterrupted by the world, and then Clara sat up, feeling the plaster on the side of her head, which were covered over by a layer of hair that dropped over them. Amy hadn't done a lot of damage there or to her nose, but when Clara touched the side of her face, it throbbed. She winced and the Doctor's face fell a million miles. She touched his shoulder gently to reassure him that she was okay and then she stood to examine her face properly. She could feel the Doctor wincing behind her, and she was certain he was about to shout a warning when she got into the bathroom and stared at herself. She whistled. The right side of her face was purple and swollen, like one giant bruise. To say that it wasn't pretty was an understatement, as she looked utterly dreadful. She turned back to the Doctor, who was looking at her as sympathetically as he ever had.

"I'm really sorry about your face," he said in a tone that indicated he blamed himself. Clara rolled her eyes at this and he gave her a look of confusion. She had to admit, she loved it when he didn't know what was going on.

"Not everything that happens in my life is your fault you dingbat!" she laughed, kissing him gently. He smiled at this, as if he knew some great secret that she didn't. He blamed himself for everything, it was in his nature. "So what happened with River? How're Amy and Rory?"

"Clara," the Doctor told her sternly and she resisted the urge to giggle. She loved it when he went all serious on her. It was adorable. "It's 8am. You slept for almost 16 hours. Yesterday was an impossibly difficult day for you, so today, you are going to focus on you. You're not going to worry about Amy or Rory or River, you can save that for another day. Today, you are going to look after number one, which is Clara Oswald. You have an appointment at the hairdresser place with Annabelle, I'm going to make you a lovely dinner and we're going to curl up under the blankets and watch crappy films. I bought a ton of your favourite ice cream last night and I'm going to make you bacon pancakes in bed."

Clara smiled at him, a proper, Clara smile. She knew how wide her lips were spread because they physically hurt, although that might have been something to do with the pounding that Amy had given her. She couldn't stop herself from smiling and she could tell by the look on the Doctor's face that her eyes were swimming with emotion. She truly loved this man.

"Can we have a James Bond marathon?" she pleaded, her eyes lighting up with childish enthusiasm to rival even the Doctors. He chuckled at this, a sound that was music to Clara's ears.

"Of course we can have a James Bond marathon," he told her and she offered out her hand for a high-five. It took him four tries to nail the five and every time Clara laughed so hard her face pulsated with pain. It was worth it.

Clara lay in bed for what seemed like an eternity, being tortured by the smell of pancakes and bacon that came drifting up through the floorboards. She'd taken another set of painkillers for her face, which had helped a lot and now she was just desperate for food. When the Doctor finally arrived, she was thrust a tray, which had a mountain of bacon pancakes, a pair of omelettes, muffins, croissants, toast and two cups of tea. It wasn't quite the epic breakfast that the Doctor had made her on her 19th birthday, the first she had known him, but it felt special nevertheless. The Doctor clambered to the head of the bed beside her and she kissed him deeply, hoping that he could feel her gratitude flowing through her tongue. The way he smiled through the kiss insisted that he did.

She ate slowly, taking her time and savouring every single bite. The Doctor had long since mastered the art of tea-making, although frankly she had appreciated his skill at it before the end of Freshers' week, so her tea was perfect and every single scrap of the food was mouth-watering. Clara wondered why he ever let her cook at all, or why she insisted on it. If she could cook this well, she'd never ever let him near the kitchen. The Doctor was doing his favourite thing: watching Clara. She knew he got a kick out of watching her reactions, so she tried to tease him by underplaying her reactions to the deliciousness. She failed miserably every time as she wanted to kiss him every time she took a mouthful, but equally, she didn't want to kiss him, for fear his taste would overwhelm the awesomeness in her mouth.

After breakfast, they snuggled until they had to get up, so Clara could change into actual clothing before she went to see Annabelle. They left themselves an hour to shower and dress, both aware of what would happen once they were under the hot, steamy jets and when they got out and ended up dry and naked. Even so, Clara was still halfway through pulling up her tights when the door knocked and the Doctor hurled on his tweed jacket and raced to answer it. Clara jumped up and down, yanking her tights as she heard Annabelle and the Doctor's conversation below her, drifting up through the floor.

"So I interrupted you two then?" Annabelle seemed fairly cool about the whole thing.

"What makes you think that?" the Doctor laughed awkwardly, with what was an absolutely terrible attempt to be casual.

"No bow tie!" Annabelle replied, and Clara could practically hear her smirk as she smoothed down her skirt. "How long is she going to be?"

"Not long!" the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Otherwise I'd offer you a cup of tea."

Clara pulled on her boots, checked her hair once more and examined her face. She had smeared the right side with a special cream that the Doctor had bought to deal with the swelling and take down the colour, but she had also had to foundation the shit out of it to try and cover up most of the damage. She winced at the sight of it and whilst she could cover it with hair, that wouldn't exactly work when the stylist was washing or dying her hair. Clara sighed. She was going to have to tell Annabelle sooner or later. She was about to go downstairs when the Doctor spoke again and it stopped her in her tracks.

"Oh and don't say anything about Clara's face!" she heard him say. He wasn't aware that she could hear him, she realised. She felt adoration shoot through her. She'd already had sex with the Doctor a handful of times that morning but she was getting the overwhelming urge to do it again. "She got into a fight with Amy yesterday, some things happened between the Ponds and Amy blamed Clara for it. I managed to break it up pretty quickly but Clara got a couple of nasty blows dealt to her."

"I'm sure Clara gave as good as she got," Annabelle responded with a kind of defensiveness and pride that made Clara's heart gush for Annabelle as well as for the Doctor. Though not quite in the same way. It also occurred to her that Annabelle didn't ask if Amy was okay.

"She would have done if her heart was in it," the Doctor replied sadly and Clara felt herself stiffen. "But you know Clara, she blames herself. She took it because she thought she deserved it. Maybe not on a conscious level but…"

"Damn," Annabelle sounded guilty and Clara bit her lip. "It seems like everyone has it in for Clara these days. Poor thing is getting so much abuse from people, even people who claim to be her friend. Her best friend."

"Don't punish yourself too harshly," the Doctor insisted. "You were going through a rough time and Clara knows that. Part of being a friend is accepting that you're going to make mistakes now and then and end up hurting the same people who you care about the most. What's important is how you deal with that. And you seem to have handled it well Annabelle. How's the writing coming?"

"I'm branching out," she replied and at this moment, Clara decided that it was safe to enter the conversation. She grabbed her bag and left the bedroom, vaguely listening to Annabelle start to talk about science-fiction and a man in a blue box. The two smiled warmly at her as she entered the lounge and the Doctor pulled her into a Doctor hug and kissed the top of her forehead. Clara sighed happily and then, with one final wave back at her fiancé, she and Annabelle headed off.

* * *

The Doctor had spent the few hours that Clara was gone purchasing DVDs for their marathon; (her three favourite Bond films: Diamonds are Forever, Tomorrow Never Dies and Die Another Day) setting up the sofas in the living room so that they were suitably bed shaped and hurling every duvet and blanket that he could find in the house onto them; ensuring that he had the exact ingredients for his amazing home cooked pizza and then making the pizza. It would crisp and fresh out of the oven five minutes after she arrived home and he had texted her telling her not to eat while she was out. Everything would be perfect. For Clara, his Clara. He felt as though he had let her down the previous day, but he also knew that all four parties were not entirely innocent. Even so, his role in events was unacceptable and he was determined to make it up to Clara.

He heard the front door open and shut and he shot out of the kitchen in a flash, secure in the knowledge that he had exactly 4 minutes and 26 seconds until he needed to go back for the pizza. Clara was stood on the threshold of the house, beaming as she stared at the blanket fort that the Doctor had produced in the middle of the room. Her face looked less swollen already (the Doctor put that down to his miracle cream) and the little giggle that the sight of him elicited from her swelled his heart.

"You've been baking pizza," Clara informed him, as if he needed telling. There was a playful note to her voice and the Doctor leaned casually against the kitchen door in an effort to be cool that he sensed wasn't quite working, judging by Clara's reaction.

"How did you guess?" the Doctor grinned.

"The apron, the flour and the sense I'm getting that this is going to be one of those days where you treat me like a goddess and you are well aware that your homemade pizza is my favourite thing in the whole world."

"Your hair looks nice!" the Doctor enthused, hoping that she wouldn't call him up on it.

"Thanks!" she responded in a teasing manner. "What have I had done to it?" Damn.

"It's…" he bit his lip. "Shorter?"

"Well it's not going to be longer is it you wally?" she laughed and he blushed at this. Clara almost felt bad for torturing him, he could see it on her face. He stammered as he tried to think of something intelligent to say regarding Clara and she gave him her very best eye roll, an art she had had plenty of occasion to perfect over the years and put him out of his misery with a wave of her hand as she crossed the room and laid a kiss on his cheek.

"Yes dear, it's shorter," she said in a voice that sounded torn between patronisation and reassurance but only just leaning towards the former. "You make taunting you so much more fun when you react so flustered you know. I would have thought that by now you would be better at it."

"Oh Clara," he responded, brushing her hair out of her eye. "You just have this effect on me. Like when I'm looking at you, I absolutely fall apart and cannot seem to function properly. Because, Clara Oswald, you are the woman will keep on flustering me until the day I die."

"Or I die," Clara replied with a smirk.

"Don't even joke about that," the Doctor responded. "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you Clara Oswald."

"And I don't know what I'd do without you," Clara breathed, almost so quiet that he didn't hear it. "Pizza must be nearly done."

"Thirty two seconds," the Doctor informed her and she laughed at that. He kissed the top of her head and retreated to the kitchen as she made herself comfortable in the lounge. A minute later, he emerged with a giant arse pizza, the smile on his face like that of a small dog who was handing his owner the biggest stick he could find in the park that day. The Doctor didn't love cooking, but Clara seemed to think he was good at it. And in any case, she was terrible. The Doctor would never tell Clara just how bad at cooking she was, but the simple truth was that faced with a meal of any substantial difficulty and Clara flopped quicker than her soufflés. On several occasions, Clara had come close to perfecting her mother's soufflé recipe but her attempts to go that last mile were always thwarted.

After they had demolished the pizza, Clara ran upstairs to onesie up. The Doctor had bought her a crimson onesie for Christmas the previous year, to replace the teddy bear one that simply couldn't handle the sands of time. He had a blue one that was the deepest shade of blue that Clara had ever seen, but he rarely wore it, as Clara hadn't been able to stop laughing at his attempts to wear a bow tie alongside it. They kicked off the James Bond marathon and the Doctor did his annoying habit of quoting Bond as they went along, despite Clara gently elbowing him in the ribs whenever he did. They ended up wrestling by the end of the first film and the Doctor had Clara pinned when he made an awful pun in tandem with Bond and Clara thrust his knee straight into his private area. He rolled off of her, letting out a pained noise so feeble that it sent Clara into waves of rib-crushing laughter. He gasped for air and Clara wiped the tears from her face before staring at him, her eyes alive.

"We can show our kids Finding Nemo," she said, with a glee in her voice that sent the Doctor into shockwaves. Or maybe that was the pain shooting through his entire body from his pelvis. "Maybe they'll fall in love to it, the way that we did."

"Kids?" he asked, a small smile creeping its way onto his face. "As in plural? We've not even had the first one yet Oswald. That might be enough for you."

"Nah," she grinned. "I was an only child and I hated that. I felt like my mum was my big sister as well as my mum, but I would have given anything to have a sister or even a brother growing up, especially an older one. It might have made things better, especially having someone to help me deal with losing mum. I've always imagined having two kids, no more, no less, you know? I want them to be close, to be able to spend time together, to know each other inside and out but not have to be competing with other siblings. And also, so that when we need to divvy up the workload, we'll only have to deal with a child each. Like you can explain the birds and the bees to…never mind, I'll handle that with both of them!" she added quickly, as the Doctor's face paled.

"Two," he mused it over and Clara blushed, as if she was afraid that she'd said too much, or unleashed some new kind of crazy upon him. "I could go for two," he chuckled. "What do you think little one, do you want a little sibling?" He was pressing his head to her belly now, as if the barely week old embryo that had only just started to form would have any idea what he was saying. "I think she agrees."

"She?" Clara raised an eyebrow mockingly and the Doctor shrugged. He didn't know why, but he had a real feeling that their child would be a girl. And that she would be the most beautiful little girl in the entire world. Because she would take after her mother, who was the most beautiful woman that the Doctor had ever met. "I think he's going to be a little boy you know. And he'll have your smile."

They were both doing it, the Doctor realised. They both wanted their child to be more like the other. Presumably because neither of them were terribly proud of themselves. She would have Clara's empathy, the Doctor hoped. The last thing he wanted was to give the world another him. But another Clara? That sounded like a gift. A gift to the world from the Doctor and Clara Oswald.

"I want him to be happy," Clara said suddenly and the Doctor raised an eyebrow. "I mean, all I want in the world is for our child to be happy. And I'm scared."

"Of course you're scared," he chuckled. "So am I. I grew up alone Clara, do you think that I'm not terrified of the prospect of dying and giving our child the same childhood that I had? I know you're scared that something will happen to you and that you'll do to your child what your mother did to you but I'm never ever going to let that happen. I will protect you Clara."

"You hear that baby," she whispered to her stomach, the way that the Doctor had done and he pulled a face to indicate that he hadn't quite realised how cringe worthy it was, both watching Clara do it and doing it himself. "Your daddy promises to protect me, so that you'll have both a mummy and a daddy who love you with all of their hearts. You're something else, you know that?" she informed him. The Doctor shrugged. He was just doing what anyone would do. What anyone should do. Loving someone meant putting them first and that was all he ever aimed to do with Clara. It wasn't complicated or difficult and he didn't understand how people considered relationships to be difficult. You just loved them. For the Doctor, Clara was the easy part of his life. It was everyone else that was difficult.

"Tomorrow Never Dies?" he asked with a big, Doctorish grin and Clara gave him a nod. And it felt oddly symbolic to him. Because for him, the idea of a tomorrow with Clara would never cease to fill him with the confidence to get through the day, aware and confident that as long as the world continued to have Clara Oswald in it, then he would continue to be okay. Halfway through the film that the Doctor realised that he hadn't told Clara about Jack.

"I told Jack about the baby," he whispered to her, her head resting on his shoulder, inches from his face. He was surprised to see that she didn't react as such. She didn't look up to him in shock or anger, she merely smiled slightly, as if she should have known that it would be the case. It was also a knowing smile, indicating that the Doctor was about to given a useful piece of information.

"I told Annabelle," she replied. "Today, I mean. I wanted to tell Ten that we were trying, but it would feel weird telling him, knowing that I was already preggers. Plus, he's your cousin."

"He likes you more," the Doctor responded and Clara rolled her eyes at this. "The Ponds. We can tell them together. And can I not be there when you tell your dad? I like my face."

"It is a pretty face," Clara agreed. "This is really happening, isn't it?"

"Looks that way yeah," he responded. "Okay with that?"

"I think so," Clara told him. "Yeah. I love you."

"I love you too Clara Oswald. Until the end of time."

* * *

***And tomorrow: Clara gets stuck in detention, Rory forgets his trousers and we meet the Williams' in...Shrapnel***


	19. Chapter 19: Shrapnel

***Hey one and all. Another day, another chapter. Quick writing update, I have like 4 chapters left to write, so I should be done by the weekend. For those of you interested, Chapter 2 of my Oswin Oswald AU will be up before midnight (hopefully, no promises) and if anyone has sent in a short prompt, it will be handled on Friday. Anyway, I've put the Amy/Rory issue to the background (which was easy to do considering it's only be two days since their blow out) but now I'm addressing it. To say this is a heavy chapter is an understatement and I may have overdone it, but nevertheless I hope you like it. Plus, another cliffhanger (Sorry). Anyway, please please let me know what you think and thanks so much to all my readers, reviewers, followers and favouriters. TPD***

**P.S I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my ex-girlfriend, who showed me that sometimes, love isn't enough to make a relationship work, my best friend who showed me that sometimes it is, my idiot flatmate who inspired the medical mishap at the end of the chapter and my grandma, who single-handedly raised three daughters with almost no money and then helped to raise me and my siblings and is the inspiration for Mary Williams (both in name and in character). RIP.**

* * *

When Rory Williams exploded, it was like a supernova, reaching out and burning to ashes everything that it touched. Rory was one of the kindest, most even-tempered people that Clara Oswald knew and yet, or maybe because of that, when he got angry, really, properly angry, then shit tended to fly. For Clara, the world of Rory Williams had always revolved around Amelia Pond. The first time that Rory had come up in conversation, it had been because he was proposing to Amy. The first time that they had met, it was because Amy had suggested a double date. The first time that they had gone out together, all Rory could talk about was Amy. For Clara, there wasn't a time where Rory didn't love solely Amy. So to knock on the door to Rory's parents' house, unsure if Rory still wanted to be with Amy, was at the least a confusing and the most a terrifying concept for Clara. Because if there was a universe where Amy Pond and Rory Williams didn't belong together, then that was a world that Clara wasn't sure she could live in. Rory's mum answered the door and relief had flooded over her upon seeing Clara. She'd met Rory's parents a couple of times. Brian Williams struck her as one of the most dad-like dads she'd ever met. He was pretty much, in Clara's mind, how dads operated. Rory's mother was kind and thoughtful and also very bossy. Brian seemed somewhat oblivious, but Rory at times actively tried to rebel against his mother's bossiness and it rarely ended well for him.

She had looked pained, the moment that she'd answered the door, and Clara felt guilty because she realised exactly why and why the palatable relief on her face was plastered there. Because she was lost. Because her son was home and in one hell of a state and she didn't know what to do. And she knew that Clara would fix it, could fix it. And Clara didn't want to take that hope away.

"Sorry I came so late," Clara apologised as she was shown into the house. "I had work today and I ended up stuck on after-school detention duty for a bunch of year 9s that I believe have a picture under the dictionary definition of nightmare."

Mary Williams laughed at that, but it was a hollow laugh, and Clara knew that she was trying to be polite. Clara felt increasingly awkward as she was shown into the kitchen and Brian was sat there with a cup of tea. He smiled brightly at her and Clara responded in kind, nodding on top of the smile as Mary made her a cup of tea.

"Our Rory," Brian said to her as she sat opposite him. "He's been all over the place since he got here. Something's happened with Amy, but he won't say what." Clara actively winced, despite every muscle in her body straining to avoid it. "Can you talk to him Clara? You know what's going on."

She knew only too well what was going on with Rory Williams. She had made it happen. Clara was worried about this, worried about dealing with a disaster, worried about dealing with the supernova. It had been over 48 hours since Rory had lost his rag and come to stay with his parents and Clara didn't know what to do. Amy was still a bit of a wreck, according to the Doctor who had been to see her and River earlier that day. Clara didn't blame her. Rory had been there for Amy since she was a little girl, so to have him turn around and walk out on her must have been horrific. The Doctor and Clara had had some horrible moments in their relationship, but nothing that had ever threatened to break them up. Not since University in any case. Their second year had been nothing short of hell at times and losing Tom had taken Clara to a very dark place.

Clara knocked tentatively on the door to the spare room, which Rory stayed in. There was no response for a moment, and then a very hoarse voice shouted: "Come in!"

Clara opened the bedroom door, stepping inside and gently clearing her throat when it became clear that Rory wasn't going to face her of his own accord. He had been lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and when she made the noise, he realised who it was and sat up, giving her a tired but otherwise neutral look. He didn't look even remotely surprised to see Clara, which made sense. She was his best friend; she was bound to pitch up at some point.

"Oswin," Rory said, his tone of voice that kind that induced flinching. "I was wondering when you'd pitch up. How're you doing?"

"Better," Clara smiled weakly, as if the sight of anyone being happy was offensive to Rory, but she still needed to communicate it. "A lot better. Painkillers and a loving fiancé, it's a winning combination. I'm actually high as a kite on pain meds, you wouldn't believe it. To me, you're just a blurry sack of beige."

If her aim was to make Rory laugh, she failed miserably and she made a nervous laugh to cover up the tension. Rory's face didn't change a millimetre. Clara swallowed. This was going to be even more painful than she had imagined it would be, so it would seem. She ran her tongue over her lips and gave Rory another winning smile, in the hopes that it would encourage him to say something.

"I'm not one of your children Clara," he said, in that same, monotone voice. "You can't just give me that reassuring smile and act as though everything will be fine. I'm a grown adult in a marriage that's threatening to self-destruct, how on earth is anything going to be fine?"

"Rory," Clara said gently as she crossed the room and sat beside him. "You're right. It's not as if a magic wand can be waved that will fix everything and I'm not here to wrap you in cotton wool and pretend that this potion is going to make your life great again. But I'm your friend and I'm not going to sit by and watch you let this marriage crash and burn, because nobody wants that. That's what you have to remember here Rory. You, me, the Doctor, Amy, River, we all want the same thing. We all want you and Amy to be together and to be happy!"

"You know about River then?" Rory asked in a tone that actually inflected, although it was more out of curiosity than anything else, which was another understandable reaction. "I suppose after all of the secret meetings between her and the Doctor, it was inevitable that you'd find out. How did you?"

"How did you?" Clara asked with a smirk.

"Amy told me about River, as for the secret meetings, they meet at Donna's, the Doctor is the least subtle person in the universe. I assume you're the same?"

"The Doctor told me about the sister thing, but yeah, Donna's. He truly does amaze me sometimes. If he ever decided he wanted to cheat on me, he'd never be able to pull it off."

"He'd never want to cheat on you though," Rory pointed out. "Because he's the Doctor."

"True," Clara beamed at the notion and hesitantly stopped herself, worried that she was almost coming across as too gleeful. "Look Rory, stop changing the subject. What are you going to do about Amy?"

"What can I do?" Rory's voice had returned to its monotony, as if talking about Amy had reduced the mood back to it. "I'm not going to leave her Clara, I could never leave her. I care too much about her. But she lied to me, and I suppose I'll just have to…"

"Have to what Rory?" Clara asked, so softly that he recoiled. "What do you have to do? You can't go on if you're unhappy Rory, no matter how much you love her. If therapy isn't helping, then what are your options?"

"Therapy was helping," Rory sighed and Clara could feel his resignation burning, melting everything that came near it, and destroying all emotion. "That's half of the problem. It was working really well. I thought that we were happy, I thought that we were getting somewhere. But now? Now I don't know where we're at. The fact that she could lie, so convincingly, whilst all the while we were talking about our whole lives…"

"You think she's going to lie to you again? Or you're more worried that you won't be able to believe her?"

"Both."

It was brutal, the way that he'd said it. Because that was it, in a nutshell and Clara had been there herself. Knowing that someone you loved was capable of telling the most incredible of lies, hide secrets from you so brutally efficiently. And wanting more than anything to be able to trust them again, to convince yourself that they're still the person that you thought they were, the person that you fell in love with and that this new piece of information changes nothing. But you can't. Because the knowledge changes everything. Every single thing that they say to you ends up with a different gloss, a different tint. You find yourself questioning even the smallest of truths, things that you didn't even realise you could question. Because it could be a lie. Any of it. And the knowledge that whilst they're probably telling the truth, you can't quite bring yourself to believe it, can't quite let your guard down enough to be fooled again, that is what destroys you. And because it's all in your head, suddenly it's your fault that you don't believe them. And the question looming, always tingling at the back of your mind, plaguing your existence. How do you come back from that?

"I know."

"How did you do it?" Rory asked quietly and Clara found her teeth and her ruby lips connecting again, like they always did when she was nervous or in thought. On this occasion, it was both. How did you put your entire relationship into words? To make someone else feel like they could achieve what you'd spent the last five years of your life rubbing your eyes in shock that it was genuinely real? Clara didn't understand it herself, how could she possibly pass it on to Rory? The only word she had for it was love. But that was insufficient. Rory was in love, but for him, love wasn't enough. There had been a time where Clara thought it wouldn't be enough for her. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe there was just something more to it.

"I don't know."

Rory's face had, for one shining moment, been full of hope. As if the fact that she understood him and had found her way out was the single most beautiful thing in the universe and that if she could just illuminate him, pass on her wisdom, then maybe Clara could help him. Maybe there was hope. But Clara didn't have the answer. Clara didn't have the cheat sheet, the get out of jail free card, the final piece of the puzzle. All Clara had was exactly what Rory needed. And she didn't know how. The moment his face slid back to the monotone, mask of complete neutrality, Clara wished that she knew what she and the Doctor had and how she could make Rory believe in it, the way that they did. It was all she wanted in the world.

"But I do know this," Clara continued. "It's real Rory. It's not some crazy myth or a story or a fairy tale. It's out there in the world. The way that I feel about the Doctor and the way that he feels about me. It may be we're just lucky, or that we connect on different levels or that we're so flawed that when we found each other, we never wanted to let go. Frankly Rory, it doesn't matter what it is. Because even if I could put it into words, that's not the point. The point is that you have to earn it, you have to make it. It needs love and care and nurturing and it needs two people who are willing to risk everything for it. But the point is, relationships work. Relationships work every day and you don't need to be me and the Doctor to make it happen. All it takes is determination, love and trust. And right now, Rory Williams, you only have one out of three. I'm telling you, that if you throw some determination into the mix then you can get that trust back. Because you and Amy are perfect for each other. I can see it and I think you can to."

Rory was staring at Clara like he couldn't quite believe she was real. And then, he stood up. He stood up, crossed the room and picked up his favourite chequered jacket and slid it onto his shoulders. He threw on a pair of shoes, grabbed his keys and phone and stared for a moment at Clara.

"Are you coming?" he asked impatiently and the change in his tone of voice was so startling that it threw Clara for a moment. She blinked a couple of times.

"Going where?" she asked, aware that she should really know the answer but that for all it was staring her in the face, she couldn't quite see it.

"To get my wife back!" he said, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "All I needed was a little determination. And like you said, a lot of hard graft and grit. Clara, a few years ago I did something. I stood up in front of every single person that Amy and I love in the world. And I looked out at each and every one of them. And I promised them something. I promised myself something and I promised Amy something. I promised everyone that I would never give up on Amelia Pond. That I would stay with her until the end of time or our lives, whichever came first. And you're right Clara. I can't just let her down."

"Calm down Centurion," Clara laughed. "You've got a long, hard road ahead of you. There's going to be shrapnel. You may have survived the explosion, but there'll be shrapnel. There's always shrapnel."

"Clara," Rory said in a condescending and joking tone. "I'm a nurse. I'm not afraid of shrapnel."

"Rory!" Clara called after him as he thundered off downstairs, laughing hysterically like a man on a mission. She fought back the urge to laugh herself, as he charged back upstairs, staring incredulously at Clara as if she was disturbing the rest of his life.

"What is it Clara?" he asked with a frown.

"You're not wearing any trousers," she pointed out, trying desperately hard not to laugh as it slowly dawned on him the magnitude of the words that she was saying. He shot a look downwards and then back up again and frowned suddenly. He shot Clara an embarrassed smile and then threw her out of his bedroom.

* * *

Martha Jones was very tired. She'd had a long day of working. A very long day of work, in which three people had died on her in the space of twenty minutes. She'd not even had time to talk to any of their families before another one went down on her and frankly, she was impressed that she'd managed to talk to all three families without getting any of the men mixed up. Martha needed a very long, steaming hot bath and a nice, relaxing cup of oolong tea. David was waiting for her when she got home and he made her said cup of tea and ran her said bath. It was the little things, she had noticed. Lately, he'd been doing all the little things that he'd never done before. This past week, since he came back from his trip, he'd been trying extra hard and it made all the difference. They kissed, a moment of magic amongst a chaotic world. Martha just wanted to crawl into bed, snuggle up with her fiancé and forget that there were other people in the world. People who died and who she'd have to go into work the next day to patch up. At least she occasionally had some easy patients. Like the idiot with the swollen foot who'd stepped on something that was now stuck in the middle of his foot somewhere. They'd have to open up a hole in his foot and hope that it fell out of its own accord. At least Martha could fix a swollen foot. Cancer and congenital heart disease were an entirely different kettle of fish and one that Martha was constantly up against.

It was around 8pm when the doorbell rang. Martha wasn't sure if David was expecting anyone, but if he was, then it would have been odd of him not to say anything. She called his name as she strolled towards the door, but the lack of a response from him told her that he probably wasn't expecting company. She opened the door and stood on her doorstep was a shivering blonde girl, who gave Martha an apologetic smile for interrupting her evening. Martha didn't quite realise how much the girl had to apologise for, not in that moment anyway. She looked the girl up and down. There was something very familiar about her, something that, for the life of her, Martha couldn't pin down. She was about to question the girl on her presence, when the girl stuck out a hand and gave her a watery grin.

"Hi," she said, well aware of the fact that her next words would change Martha's life. "I'm Rose Tyler."

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*** And tomorrow: The Doctor and Clara watch TV, Ten gets rained on and Rose brings back takeaway. Oh and some important plot developments. Until then!***


	20. Chapter 20: The End of the Road

***Hey troops, another day, another chapter. Having successfully moved on the Pond drama, today I deal with Ten's life and all the dramas associated with it. I really hope you guys like what I've done with it and tomorrow we're back with the Whouffle. As ever, thanks a lot for reading and reviewing, following and favouriting. Speak soon! TPD***

* * *

Clara was convinced that things were finally settling down. Ten had gone back to Martha and they were hopefully going to make a real fist of it. The Ponds were talking again and, although they had a long road ahead of them, it looked like they were heading in the right direction. Annabelle was writing again and her new science-fiction novel was something that she was really getting into, far cry from her normal writings. The Doctor was giving her a lot of help with quantum physics and the like and Clara found it adorable how they were scheduling lunch dates during the week when Clara was at work. Annabelle happy again was a huge boost and it meant that the Doctor could keep a close eye on her. Clara was grateful to him, but he insisted it was nothing. Even Rose seemed to be doing better. Clara knew how she felt, but the fact that she came out to Annabelle and asked for help was a start. Rose and Annabelle were talking more regularly and Clara could only imagine that it was helping both of them.

She was eager to tell people about the baby. She'd only had the chance to tell Annabelle. She and the Doctor had agreed that they were going to tell the Ponds together, when Amy and Rory had patched things up, which they were certainly in the process of doing, according to Amy anyway. As for Ten, he was going to find out the next time that the Doctor saw him, but he'd been spending as much time at home as he could, presumably for Martha's sake. It had only been a week since everything had kicked off, but Clara was feeling better. Her dad was coming down Saturday night and they were going to tell him over dinner. The Doctor was reluctant but Clara assured him that if they went somewhere public, then her dad wouldn't pitch a fit. She hoped. She was quietly less confident than she had made out to the Doctor, but that was mainly because she felt bad for her dad and didn't want to tell him over the phone. Clara's birthday was also, just over the horizon and when the Doctor had asked her what she had wanted to do for it, Clara could think of nothing better than lying in bed at home with him. They would have a party on the Friday night, a drunken affair with their closest friends and they could snuggle up on Clara's actual birthday. Thankfully, it was a Sunday, so Clara didn't have to work.

It was Friday night. Clara had had a long week, but the simple knowledge that for the first time in a long time, there was light at the end of the tunnel made her smile as she cuddled up to the Doctor on the sofa, watching rubbish TV. Her arm was snaked around his waist and she was leaning on his shoulder, paying more attention to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of his scratchy stubble against the top of her head than whatever it was they were supposed to watching. Then, their evening of peace and quiet was interrupted by a hideous banging noise; someone thudding on the front door like their life depended on it. The Doctor manoeuvred Clara off him, kissing her forehead gently as he crossed the room. Clara frowned at the door, thoughts running through her head at a million miles an hour.

She slipped to her feet, her feet padding gently against the wooden floor as she moved across the living room, in time to see the Doctor opening the front door. Ten stood on the threshold, his hair pinned to his head by rain, his brown trench coat soaked and a look on his face that said there was a solid chance that he was going to murder the Doctor.

"Please tell me I don't have to punch you in the face again!" Ten said, in an odd voice, halfway between exasperation and blind fury, with undertones of upset.

"I'm sure you don't," the Doctor replied tacitly and Clara brushed him aside to guide Ten inside, glaring at the Doctor who gesticulated wildly, trying to communicate to Clara that he wasn't the one who had just done the threatening, as she shot back with her eyes that her cousin was not in a good state and he needed to stop being a righteous prick. The Doctor relented as Clara put her arm around Ten, sheparding him into the house and pulling his sodden coat off of him and throwing it over the bannister, ushering him down to the sofa.

"Doctor?" she indicated with her head. "Tea. Go." He opened his mouth to argue but Clara raised an eyebrow, daring him and he slunk off without a second thought. "So what happened Ten?"

"Martha," he gasped, shivering and Clara wrapped a blanket around him. "Sorry, but she uh. Well she knows. About Rose." The way he said Rose's name was not encouraging. "I don't know how, I don't know who. She didn't tell me, she said it didn't matter. But she was upset and she…"

"She kicked you out?" Clara tried to sound sympathetic, but shock was her overwhelming emotion and sympathy merely a close second. She pulled Ten into a long hug, that he barely reciprocated. "I am so sorry David. We didn't say anything, I promise."

"She didn't want to hear it," Ten said angrily as the Doctor returned with the tea. "She has always had this problem with Rose, the mere mention of her name was enough to send Martha over the edge. It was as if everything I said to her about Rose made it worse. And now she knows Rose is back and that I saw her and that…"

"And that you had doubts?" Clara put it as kindly as she could, but Ten still winced. "Look David, you can't blame her. She found out you went to see your ex, who you loved in so many ways and for so long, and that you lied to her and that you had doubts."

"I don't blame her," Ten replied and Clara was chewing on her lip now, increasingly agitated. "I'm just pissed off. I need to know who told her Clara."

Clara and the Doctor exchanged a look. Ten picked up on it instantly and frowned at them, before it dawned on him what they were implying. He glared at Clara as if even thinking it was unacceptable.

"Rose wouldn't do that!" he laughed. "She told me that she wouldn't say anything to Martha. Whatever Rose has done to me in the past, she does care about me and she wouldn't ruin my relationship out of spite."

Clara wasn't convinced. She didn't need to say it either, because it was written all over her face. The look Ten was giving her was one of pure incredulity but both the Doctor and Clara suspected that Ten was completely oblivious to how much of a state Rose was truly in. And Clara was damned if she was going to tell him. Nevertheless, he was on the verge of throwing his toys out of the pram, a trait that he always seemed to inherit whenever Rose was involved.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, trying to direct the topic back towards what was important. "How are you going to win Martha back?" The sad thing was, he looked confused for a moment, as if he didn't understand the prospect. Clara was fuming with Rose, who she didn't doubt for a second was behind this. Of all of the petty, spiteful…

Clara forced herself to stay calm. Rose was going through a rough period and she was probably all over the place emotionally. It made total sense that she would do something spiteful, out of control in order to get Ten to go crawling back to her. And Clara could see the cogs working in Ten's head, the gears turning.

"I don't know," he replied eventually. "Martha Jones, she's different. She's not the sort of woman who would ever settle for second best Clara. She's probably already packed up all my bags and called everyone she knows to tell them the wedding's off. She said to me the phrase: 'You two deserve each other!' and maybe she's right."

Clara slapped him forcefully. The Doctor, who had been watching, arms crossed, frowning up until this point, jumped slightly and Ten rolled his head back, groaning in pain and glaring at Clara. But she had had more than enough of this bullshit. The kid gloves were coming off.

"What was that for?" he exclaimed.

"Get your head out of your arsehole David!" Clara scolded. "Rose Tyler is not your way out of this. For the love of God man, how low is your self-respect that you're willing to go back to someone who went to New Zealand for five years, came back because she got dumped, tried to convince you to call off your marriage and then told your fucking fiancée that you saw her so that you'd end up going back to her? And frankly, I don't give a damn if you have faith that it wasn't Rose who told Martha, because you're as blind as a bat when it comes to her. Ten, she's bad for you. She might make your head rush and your blood boil and your heart pound but Jesus fucking Christ, she's one of the most selfish, manipulative people I've ever met. And she's all over the place emotionally. She lost everything Ten, including her mum, the one person she really needed. And I know how that can fuck you up. Rose doesn't know what to do or who to turn to, so she's doing everything in her power to get you back because…"

"Because she's alone," Ten finished. "And she needs me." Clara resisted the urge to slap him again. She raised her right hand and had to physically lower it with her left. "Clara, she's Rose. Don't you know what that means, what she means to me?"

"Doctor?" Clara said through gritted teeth. "A little help?"

"David," the Doctor sat opposite his cousin. "Dependence is a dangerous thing. Rose is volatile and she's lost someone that she loves. She's lost everyone that she loves. The last thing she needs is to get attached to one person, to make that person a beacon of light. Look at Clara. She had to make the choice herself, realise herself that she needed to make everything okay again. And she had the love and support of her friends. Rose and you have always had a passionate and potentially unstable relationship. If things go off the rails again, then Rose won't have gone anywhere but backwards. She needs to calm down and to realise that the only way she's going to heal isn't by scheming to get you back, but to help herself first. To realise that she doesn't need you."

"So what should I do?" Ten said quietly, sat there, vulnerable and Clara stared at him, chewing on her lip. The Doctor shrugged his shoulders as if to say that Clara was on her own. Clara threw back her head in anguish.

"You tell Rose there's nothing left between you. To her face this time, rather than trying to mediate through me. And you don't give in to her. You don't let yourself slide back into this horrible spiral, this cat and mouse game that the two of you keep ending up playing. She's leading you on a merry dance Ten and it's time for you to get a new dance partner. And then, you do everything in your power to win back Martha and if that doesn't work…"

"Then I'm screwed."

"There are worse things in the world than being single," the Doctor pointed out.

"Spoken like someone who hasn't had to worry about being alone for years," Ten shot back and Clara gave him a warning look that made him shut up instantly. "Sorry Doctor."

Ten was looking pretty forlorn when he left to go and talk to Rose. In truth, he was feeling pretty forlorn. The Doctor and Clara had been right of course, they always were. But Ten couldn't believe, wouldn't believe, that Rose would do that to him. He looked back on it all, their whole relationship. Rose had always been good to him, hadn't she? She had made him happy, made him smile. But she'd also driven him mad. And she'd left him. She'd run away to New Zealand. She hadn't come back for him or because of him. But she was lost and alone and she needed someone. But not him. They were a flammable combination. She was in a bad place and she needed calm and stability, not passion and insanity. As for Ten himself, he just needed to focus on something other than Rose for once in his life.

Even as he rapped on the door, he was terrified. Could he do this? Could he really cut Rose out of his life forever. As Annabelle opened the front door, he put up his hands in defence to avoid her death glare.

"Annabelle!" he greeted. "Thank God. I need to talk to Rose."

"You're just in time," Annabelle said coldly. "She's been out all evening. She got back like twenty minutes ago, she's in the kitchen."

"She's been out?" Ten frowned.

"Yeah, said she had personal stuff to take care of. She brought back takeaway though, so I'm not going to quiz her too hard. I thought you said you were done with her."

"I was…" Ten was angry now. He hadn't believed for a second that Rose could have told Martha but here was the evidence, right in front of him, staring him in the face. How did he react to that? How could he react to that? "I mean I am done with her," Ten reiterated angrily. "I just need to make sure that she knows that. Because it seems that my fiancée doesn't and someone seems to have told her. Tonight. In the last couple of hours or so."

Annabelle was joining the dots up in her head and her eyes widened as Ten stepped into the house, flicking his coat around his shoulder, looking determined. He walked through the kitchen and Annabelle had scuttled off, presumably so that she didn't interrupt whatever was about to happen. Ten wasn't sure what was about to happen. But he knew that he saw Rose as she really was. And he couldn't be with someone like that, no matter how much he loved her. And he did love her, it was pointless to deny it. Either to himself or to her. He took a deep breath and took the final step into the kitchen. She was staring at her dinner, a smile on her face. He stood there, watching her, but she didn't look up at him. Ten took a deep breath and said her name in a cracked voice and then stared at her emotionlessly. She looked up and smiled happily at him, but when she saw his face, she did a very convincing sadness that Ten almost didn't see through. At least the concern was real.

"David?" she breathed. "Why are you here? What's wrong?"

"Martha kicked me out!" he said quietly, his voice level but brimming with emotion. "She knows about you, she thinks that we deserve each other. Somebody sold me out."

There it was. All Ten needed to know. If he'd been unsure, he knew now. He could see it on Rose's face. The little moment of victory, the satisfaction of knowing a plan had come together, just for a millisecond before the mask of surprise and shock rifled over her face. Ten saw through the lies. It had been her. It was always her. Rose Tyler.

"Who would do that?" Rose said quietly. "The Doctor? I doubt it's in Clara's nature to be that deceptive."

"You want to talk about deception Rose?" he asked, trying to keep himself calm as he brimmed with anger. "Martha told me it was you who talked to her Rose, she told me that you told her everything. How could you do that? You told me you wouldn't. You told me that you wouldn't ruin what I had with Martha if you thought, for even a second, that it might be real." Now to see if she took the bait and confirmed what Ten already knew.

"I…I only did what I thought was best!" Rose snapped, her defensive side coming to the fore. Ten had truly hoped that he'd been wrong. That Clara and the Doctor had been wrong. But it wasn't to be. "I only did it because you deserve to be happy Ten, more than anything. I love you and I always have. I made the biggest mistake of my life by going to New Zealand and I've regretted it every day since. I lost my mum David, don't make me lose you too, when everything I've done is to make us happy."

"No Rose," Ten replied, so delicately that he could pinpoint the moment her heart broke. He got no satisfaction from it, it just made her feel empty. His anger was slipping away, more and more by the second. "You did what you did for yourself. If you truly wanted me to be happy, you would have let me go. You don't want me to be happy, you want me to be with you. That's not necessarily the same thing. Maybe in your mind, you'd be able to make it up to me, but I made my choice Rose. I chose Martha and we would have been great together. But I fucked up. I fucked up by seeing you, by letting you back into my life and back having doubts about my relationship. And maybe it's too late to salvage what I want Rose, but it's never too late to back any from something destructive."

He moved over to her as what was left of his anger melted away completely. She was staring at him. "I love you Rose. But you don't need me. You need help. You need friends. You need to finish your degree like you're doing and you need to live your life. But don't let yourself get hung up on me, because I'm done. You're a better person than this Rose and I believe that you can turn this around. Goodbye."

Ten turned and ignored Rose's strangled cries and pleas from behind him. He swirled his coat round, his serious face on, and he walked away…

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Ten picked at his croissant, looking up at the clock to see how long it was until Donna's closed. It was 9:55 and they shut in 5 minutes. The shop was almost empty, just him sat down, Donna fussing over her only other worker Natalie and a man who had just finished his coffee and was walking out the door. Ten sighed and took a bite of the croissant, before sipping on his fifth unfinished tea. He suddenly looked up and she was standing over him, hands on hips, her red hair fiery as ever, her face incredulous but her eyes soft and caring. She looked like a five year old who had found her lost puppy.

"Are you alright skinny?" she asked, with a boisterous voice that was knocked down a few octaves for him. "You've ordered five teas and not finished any of them. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's breakup territory."

"Two," Ten said bitterly. "In one day."

Donna whistled and shot him a look that was torn between sympathy and intrigue, with just a hint of judgement. She sighed deeply and then rushed across the coffee shop to Natalie. They had a whispered conversation that took little more than thirty seconds before Donna strode back towards Ten and then sat opposite him.

"You'd better start talking sunshine!" Donna informed him, taking a bite out of his croissant nonchalantly and putting her feet up in a relaxed manner. "Because we're gonna be here until you tell me the whole story."

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***And tomorrow: Ultrasounds, Christmas and Moving. **


	21. Chapter 21: Life Moves On

***Sup guys. Covering a lot of ground in this chapter, as I really wanted to get a lot out of the way. There's so much happening in the Whouffle world but I really wanted to get to the core of the pregnancy. There's also some smut in this chapter, which makes a nice change. Anyway, I really hope you guys like it and as ever, thanks for everyone who's read, reviewed, followed and favourited! TPD***

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The Doctor was sat in bed, poring over his laptop, whistling and gasping every now and then, his thoughts escaping him far quicker than he would like as he hissed: "No way!" At one point, he looked like he was going to violently throw the laptop across the room before Clara snatched it off of him, laughing as she did so. She felt baby Tom kick her stomach and she squealed, the Doctor shooting her an instant look of concern, which she waved off. He seemed to relax but he was looking at her like he needed the laptop back. Clara rolled her eyes and handed the giant baby his toy. The Doctor had got another three lines before he shouted: "Fucking hell!" and Clara swatted him.

"No swearing in front of the baby!" she scolded and the Doctor threw up his arms in exasperation. "You can finish it tomorrow!"

"But Clara…" he whined. "I promised Annabelle I'd finish reading her first draft tonight and I'm almost done! And it's really good. Annoyingly addictive. I mean there are a lot of mistakes, ways she could improve it sure, but it's a first draft. The core idea, a man who travels time and space in a little blue box…it's so original, so daring, it's incredible. And the plot twists Clara, oh you wouldn't believe!"

Clara rolled her eyes. The Doctor had been super supportive of Annabelle ever since she decided to delve into the world of science-fiction. Now, six months later, Annabelle had finished her first draft and it was the Doctor's pleasure to be the first person to read it. Once he'd given her his input, she'd look at finding an editor. She'd spent the time she wasn't writing or working at Donna's over the past half a year networking, pulling all her writing contacts, desperate to find herself a way back into the world and with a chance of being able to get published again. The Doctor's support had been invaluable to her, with his knowledge of quantum physics and his love of literature. Clara had been desperate to read it, but both Annabelle and the Doctor were keeping it away from her, stating that as Annabelle's biggest fan (though somehow Clara doubted that, the Doctor probably owned that title), Clara would get the privilege of an advanced copy once it was set to be published, but not until Annabelle had worked out all of the kinks and problems with it.

So much had changed in the last six months. Annabelle had been focusing on her book, but she'd also had to find a new flat, as Rose had moved out and she needed to find somewhere smaller and more affordable. Rose was gone. Flat out gone. Since Ten had broken her heart, she had moved to a different part of London, away from Annabelle and Ten and the Doctor and Clara, all the people that she blamed for what had happened. Clara assumed and hoped that Rose was still working on her degree in psychology, but at this stage, the Doctor had convinced her, there really was nothing more that they could do.

With Rose gone, Ten had hoped that Martha would be able to find it within herself to forgive him for what had gone down and hopefully, they would move forwards. Alas, that had not been the case and after a month in the Doctor and Clara's spare room, Ten had had to accept that there was no going back and he had got his own place. He had spent a lot of time in that month in Donna's tea house and Clara had learned that Ten had struck up a friendship with Donna herself.

The month that he had stayed had been an interesting one to say the least. Clara constantly felt like this would be what it was like when she was a mother; having to cook for three, constantly being interrupted when she wanted to get intimate with the Doctor, always having to be there for a third party emotionally and constantly resorting to checking in on Ten, who had become somewhat a shadow of his former self in that month. It hadn't shaken Clara's resolve that the child in her belly would be the best thing that had ever happened to her except perhaps the Doctor himself, but she wasn't relishing when her child grew up to be a teenager.

Ten moved out just before Christmas and the Doctor and Clara had him and Clara's father over for Christmas dinner. By this point, they'd already told everyone about the baby. Ten had found out about a week after Martha had left him; Dave had been told on that Sunday as they'd planned. By Christmas, the Ponds had also managed to find themselves a state of relative calm, and they had been told just before Christmas themselves. That Christmas had been one of the best. Laughing and joking and the Doctor had finally had some decent help in the kitchen, which he'd been sure to mention to Clara multiple times as she rolled her eyes and did what little the Doctor and Ten allowed her to do.

Dave had never been happier to spend time with his daughter and they gushed over everything. Dave was planning on moving to London he announced, so that he could be close to his daughter and grandchild. Clara had been so excited, they nearly knocked over the Christmas tree, as she hurled herself into her father's arms, sending him staggering backwards. Luckily, the Doctor and Ten had managed to stabilise the pair before the whole group went tumbling to floor, laughing hideously.

January had passed quickly. Clara had January exams to deal with, so the Doctor helped Dave with the moving when he had the time, between work and helping out Annabelle. They had been having bi-weekly lunches now and Clara felt a bit upset that her fiancé was spending more time with her best friend than she was. January was also a big month for the Ponds, as Rory finally moved back into the main bedroom, having spent the previous couple of months since the fight sleeping in the spare room, saying that he needed time and space to try and work out how they went on from there. Amy also finally managed to secure a position at a fashion magazine, which resulted in a titanic night out, ending with Rory, Amy, the Doctor and Annabelle all nursing their biggest hangovers for years, with an annoying cheerful Jack Harkness there to remind all of them how pitiful their drinking habits were and Clara there to sulk that she wasn't allowed to partake.

Jack himself made a big step in February when he asked Ianto to move in with him. By this point, Dave was over every other weekend, busying himself in Clara and the Doctor's plans for the rest of their lives. Clara's bump was only just beginning to show as she entered her second trimester and when they had their ultrasound, they discovered that they were going to have a little boy. The Doctor had burst into tears and Clara had smugly informed him that she was right. They had decided almost immediately that there was nobody they'd rather name after than Tom. After all, without him, baby Tom wouldn't even be possible. Thomas David Oswald, after both Ten and Clara's dad. The Doctor had been adamant that the child have Clara's last name, as he didn't want his own name, let alone to have to pass it to his son. Vastra and Jenny had also finally finished all the adoption procedures and had a little girl of their own, little Gemma. She was the most adorable child that the Doctor had ever seen, but rudely informed the three month old that his son would be cuter. She had merely gurgled at that.

March was the biggest month of Clara's life, as she and the Doctor made two very big decisions. The first was the decision that they needed to move to a more child friendly house. So they packed all their stuff up into boxes and found a gorgeous, three bedroom house in Tunbridge Wells. They had a crib in their bedroom and the smaller bedroom would be the baby's room when it was old enough. The Doctor had spent a good few weeks painting and then re-painting the bedroom a multitude of colours, before Clara finally, at four months pregnant, painted the entire room a pale blue and told the Doctor that if he put another paint brush within a foot of any of the walls, she'd shove it so far up his arse that it would take a real Doctor of incredible skill to remove it.

Clara had also had to deal with Henry reaffirming his crush for him in no uncertain terms that month, after he had broken up with his girlfriend. She considered that really a secondary issue to the whole pregnancy thing that she had going on, so she told her supervisor and just figured that it was a problem that would resolve itself as she got progressively bigger and he got progressively closer to exams, with only three months left until his term ended anyway.

The other major, life-changing event that occurred in March really happened quite suddenly and took Clara quite aback. They were sat in the kitchen of their new home. The Doctor had made a cup of tea for her as she had just got back from work and he looked at her, with a serious look in his eye and said: "Marry me."

Clara had spat out her tea, choking with laughter. "I'm already marrying you, you dolt!"

He looked crestfallen and Clara wiped tea off her arm as she took a deep breath and tried to clear her sinuses of the amber liquid. "I meant, I want to marry you. I want to plan a wedding. By the end of the year. I mean, if that's alright with you. A Christmas wedding with our new child."

"A Christmas wedding with our new baby boy?" Clara smiled at the thought. "That sounds magical. Anything Doctor. Anything for you. I love you so much."

"I love you too."

And that was that. Suddenly, they had a child to prepare for and a wedding to plan. With 9 months to plan out the wedding and only 5 to prepare for their latest arrival, Clara suggested that they focus on the latter first. The Doctor had agreed wholeheartedly. Clara was so relieved that she'd have to take at most a few weeks maternity leave in July, at the back end of term, after exams, as she was due in early August, meaning that the month after the baby was born, she could focus on it and then, hopefully, go back to work at the school and leave Tom in the Doctor's care. She was nervous about leaving her child alone with him after just a month, but the Doctor said that if the shoe was on the other foot and he was the one returning to work, nobody would bat an eyelid. They would find a way to make it work.

March became April and things were looking rosy in their little world. Amy and Rory seemed to be getting on better terms by the weekend and even hosted a little dinner party for the Doctor and Clara, Mels and Kyle, with River and Annabelle also invited. At first, Clara had been apprehensive about seeing River, but everything went smoothly and it genuinely seemed as though River was comfortable in the Doctor's presence, as he was in hers without it being awkward.

Ten, meanwhile, had finally found himself in a good place. He threw himself into his work, making the Doctor's company run smoother than ever and when he wasn't working, he was spending a lot of time with Donna, who was successfully keeping his ego in check. They had become great friends and Donna was soon being invited to a lot of events as Ten's plus one. At almost every event, they were called a cute couple, and at almost every event, they flat out denied it, shooting each other and the people odd looks. Ten pointed out that Donna was old enough to be his mother. Donna slapped him.

Clara, for what it was worth, loved Donna. She thought it was great that Ten had someone he could talk to and confide in, someone that he was comfortable around, with the air of sexual tension that was always present with Martha or Rose. The Doctor always seemed put off by Donna, in a good way, like he never knew quite how to react around her. Clara loved having someone around that could keep the Smith boys on their toes.

And as May rolled along, Clara had her six month scan and was told that everything was normal. The Doctor had managed to avoid crying this time, but had informed the OB nurse that Thomas David Oswald was anything but normal. He was perfect. Clara was stressed however. She was working herself into the ground during exam season and the stress was not helped by the fact that she now had a considerable baby bump and all of her students kept asking annoying questions about the Doctor and baby Tom and various other bits and bobs completely unrelated to the fact that they had exams in mere days and they weren't ready. Clara ended up losing her temper on more than one occasion and from then on, even her usually raucous Year 10s kept their mouths shut as she prowled around the classroom, snapping at anyone who even breathed too loudly.

Clara wasn't the only one stressed. The Doctor was panicking over every little thing now that Clara had entered her third trimester. Every slammed door, every angry comment, every pained moan had him on edge, as though the entire world was out to get Clara Oswald. She would normally appreciate his overprotective and overly caring stance, but one morning she ended up snapping at him for making her a cup of tea in bed screaming that just because she was now over six months pregnant did not mean that she was entirely incapable of making her own tea, as he seemed to think. He hadn't said anything, but slunk out, looking like a forlorn puppy. It got to the point at one stage where almost everything he did pissed Clara off. He was either being too caring or hanging her out to dry and she spent almost three days straight screaming at him constantly, for almost anything.

After that, things calmed down a bit. Annabelle had finally finished the first draft of her novel, and exams had hit. There was nothing more that Clara could do and she reached the blissful two week period where she had some year groups turning up to lessons sporadically and some not turning up at all. She had been there; she knew how stressful that it could be.

The Doctor was desperate to finish reading Annabelle's manuscript. Clara watched him try to slip over her and get to the laptop and she lifted her bump up ever so slightly, knowing that he would flinch and avoid banging it at all costs, which he did, twisting and falling back against her legs, groaning in defeat. Clara giggled and playfully plucked his head off of her ankle and dragged it willingly to her own face, their lips colliding. Clara snaked a hand down his back and pulled him closer so that he was lying parallel to her again, only inches away. She could feel the heat leaving his body as his thighs brushed against hers, the contact making her shudder.

"You know what we haven't done in far too long?" she asked seductively, although she appreciated that it was difficult to feel sexy when she felt so bloated and pregnant. He was still staring at hungrily, like he wanted to devour every inch of her, but he was still tentative and she kissed him again, fiercer this time, informing him that she was going to get exactly what she wanted from him and that there was nothing that the Doctor could do to resist her, even if he tried.

He didn't try. He gave in to the kiss, pulling Clara onto her side despite the bump and she gasped as his hand slivered up and down her inner leg. She clawed at his back as his fingers slipped into her and she bit down onto his shoulder, causing him to grimace and stop pleasuring her for half a second before he continued his movements. Their kissing was ragged and Clara's left hand shot down his trousers. The Doctor groaned as she tugged and Clara moaned as he rubbed. Suddenly, he'd shifted, positioning himself in front of her and he pulled out of the kiss, long enough to whisper harshly: "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Get the fuck in me!" she growled, in a ragged tone and then he obliged and Clara's world rocked. She felt herself dissolve into a million little pieces at his touch and as he grunted, the noise was music to her ears. She thrusted back at him, influencing his momentum and twisting the pleasure so that she felt like there was no part of her that wasn't him. She squealed and then shouted his name as he ploughed onwards, alleviating any pain and turning to all to a gushing, unstoppable rapture. She felt the Doctor explode within her and her name was all she could hear in her ears, ringing like an echo and then he fell back and she was gasping for air, for life. She felt as though she had died and the real world was coming back to her in jigsaw pieces that she had to put together. She breathed deeply and found herself shooting back to reality as Tom kicked her again. She sat up sharply and the Doctor, panting beside her, was onto it in an instant, sitting up and pressing a calming hand on the shoulder that was connected to the hand Clara had furiously pressed to her stomach.

"Clara," he said gently and she turned to look at him with a warm smile.

"Doctor," she replied teasingly, before exhaling sharply. "For goodness sake, I'm fine. He's just kicking. I don't think he liked the ruckus."

"That's a shame," the Doctor chuckled. "Because I loved it." He kissed again, softly this time and Clara wanted to moan in joy just at the small touch. His eyes were blazing. If he never said the words "I love you" to Clara again it wouldn't detract from how his eyes blazed and his heart thudded and his smile grew when he saw her. The words were superfluous. But he still always said them anyway and that was one of the many things that Clara loved about him. She stared at her Doctor. Her fiancé. The father of her child. And Clara Oswald knew that the day was coming when they would be a family. And it couldn't come soon enough.

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***And tomorrow: Clara eats some chicken, the Doctor drinks some lemonade and Ten does something stupid. Oh and it's a cute Whouffle one, so bring your feels.***


	22. Chapter 22: Pregnancy Pains

***Hey guys. Another cute, fluffy, pregnancy chapter today and I wanted this one and the couple that follow it to really crank up the affection levels in the Whouffle relationship. Huge thanks to xandrota for their suggestions and as ever thank you so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited. On the home stretch now, so I really hope that you're still with me. We're near the end :P TPD***

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Being seven months pregnant was a giant pain in the arse, Clara had decided. She no longer stood in the classroom, resting as far back in her comfy chair as was humanly possible and poking students with a very long stick she'd made by sellotaping three metre long rulers together. The fact that she was angry and pregnant and had a very large stick kept her students in line as June progressed and she increasingly had to fight the urge to stick on DVDs and take a nap. The Doctor had taken to visiting every lunch time and she jokingly asked if he ever did any work, to which he gave her a dismissive wave and asserted that Ten was picking up the slack. Clara felt guilty for his cousin, but even so, she appreciated all of the effort he was putting in.

They had gone baby clothes shopping last Saturday and Clara had never felt more out of place. It still all felt strange and new to her. She was only 26 and by the end of the year, she'd be married with a son. It all felt so surreal. She wasn't ready, was she? She had asked her father that question, to which he had chuckled and informed her that never knew you were ready until you were thrust into that situation and that Clara would be fine. The Doctor told her that she would be more than fine. But she couldn't quite bring herself to believe either of them. She supposed that was normal.

The Doctor had taken to leaving little notes around the house, so that when she went to eat another entire chicken, he'd leave a note scolding her on the fridge. She'd eat the chicken anyway. Another time, he left a note on the washing basket, informing her not to strain herself and that he would handle it. She did it anyway. Clara saw the Doctor's notes, cute and adorable as they were, as challenges to be bested and this just frustrated him all the more. They became locked in a restless struggle, Clara determined not to let her aching back or never-ending stomach cramps stop her from performing every task she wanted to perform, whilst the Doctor was desperately pre-emptively stopping her. Clara's stubbornness was almost insatiable and knowing how crazy she drove her Doctor was part of the enjoyment.

Annabelle thundered into Clara's classroom one lunchtime, as Clara was busy devouring a bucket of fried chicken that she had called the Doctor and demanded he bring in for her. Clara looked up and Annabelle tried not to look too disgusted as Clara picked the bones of a particular piece of chicken clean, balancing the bucket on her pregnancy bump. Clara waved cheerily, but didn't bother to try and stand to waddle over, as that would be both pointless and impossible. Annabelle pulled a face as chicken juice dribbled down Clara's chin.

"You look delightful," Annabelle said sarcastically. "Pregnancy agrees with you."

"Fuck off!" Clara mumbled, spraying Annabelle with chicken bits. "I look stunning."

"Hmm," Annabelle smiled unconvincingly. "I have news. Big news!"

"You brought ice cream?" Clara asked hopefully, her eyes widening at the prospect. Annabelle tried to not look like she wanted to vomit, but failed to keep the distaste with Clara's behaviour off of her face as Clara spat a bit of bone back into the bucket.

"Ummm no," Annabelle found herself forced to look away completely as Clara physically stuck her head in the bucket to retrieve another piece of chicken. "I mean…Clara can you stop eating for a moment please?"

Clara looked as though Annabelle had shot her puppy. "But I'm hungry!"

"Fine!" Annabelle sighed as Clara tore at the next chicken piece. "I just came to say that I found a publisher!"

"Wow!" Clara moved the bucket and rolled closer to Annabelle before standing up slowly and then throwing her arms around her best friend. "That's amazing! Well done, I am so proud of you! Have you told the Doctor yet, he'll be ecstatic!"

"Not yet," Annabelle was a little bit flushed now. "I wanted to tell you first, because you're my best friend. I can't wait for you to read it Clara, it's genuinely the best thing I've ever written. I know I said that about…well you know. But this time I mean it. And this time, I have your soon-to-be husband on my side and he knows good literature." Clara raised an eyebrow. "I mean, not as well as you know good literature, being…an…English…teacher. But nevertheless, I'll send you a copy as soon as the publishers have made their final adjustments. Clara!" Annabelle squealed. "This is it. I'm back baby!"

Annabelle did a little dance and punched the air. Clara, who had slumped back into her chair, cheered along with her, genuinely excited on Annabelle's behalf. They spent the rest of the hour chatting about things that seemed almost inconsequential in comparison and Annabelle informed Clara that the three of them were going out for dinner that Friday night and that she wasn't taking no for an answer. Clara asked if Ten could join them and Annabelle insisted upon it.

Which was how they ended up, the four of them, all sitting in a restaurant in the heart of London on a Friday night. Clara and the Doctor drank lemonade, for he was driving her home, and Annabelle and Ten drank champagne. Nevertheless, they toasted Annabelle's new book and Clara and the Doctor chinked glasses and sipped and pretended that they were in fact drinking real champagne. The Doctor even pulled the face that he made while drinking champagne and Clara had to bang the table she was laughing so hard. The Doctor and Annabelle ended up deep in book talk, so Clara chatted with Ten about if he'd found anyone in the past few months. Ten admitted with a blush that he'd followed the Doctor's advice and enjoyed being single, ending up a handful of crazy nights with Jack Harkness and a couple of one night stands, one he was ashamed to admit to.

It took Clara nearly half an hour to prise the name River Song out of him, after which she almost died of laughing. The Doctor had looked over in shock as Clara's head rested against the table. She was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out, she was just shaking, tears rolling down her cheeks as she struggled for breath. Ten and the Doctor shared a look and Ten shrugged as if to say that he had no idea what was going on. When Clara eventually managed to sit up, still crying and convinced that she had cracked a rib or two as she choked, she managed to point to Ten, then point to the Doctor, then snort and she was off again, her sides threatening to split. It was only when Tom kicked her to tell her to shut up that she stopped and took several deep breaths and a few gulps of lemonade. Half the restaurant was staring and Ten was shooting her daggers. The Doctor looked confused; Annabelle amused.

"Sorry," Clara apologised, raising a hand to whoever was watching. "Apologies. But that is probably the funniest thing I've ever heard. I'll need to ask her who was better in bed."

Ten paled and started stammering as the Doctor's eyebrows furrowed.

"Ask who if who is better in bed?" he said meekly and Clara could see Annabelle had clocked, because she had snorted into her spaghetti and patted the Doctor patronisingly.

"Nothing dear," Clara informed him cheerily, giving him her brightest teacher smile and her biggest puppy dog eyes to inform him that absolutely nothing was wrong and he should question it no further. He grumbled considerably at this, but didn't say anything, he merely stabbed his chips with renewed vigour. Ten was still glaring at Clara.

"It's not funny!" he insisted and Clara arched her eyebrows. "It isn't!"

"Sure it isn't," Clara said gently, like she was telling off one of her Year 7s who looked liable to cry. "Not funny in the slightest. I don't know why I laughed. I don't know why. Not a clue." She was holding back more laughter and Annabelle could see her situation developing and quickly changed the topic of conversation to spare Ten more embarrassment and Clara's ribcage more prevalent torture. They were both grateful. The evening proceeded at pace, with Annabelle and Ten getting progressively cheerier as they grew tipsy and the Doctor relishing their company enough that he also seemed to be perking up. Clara, however, found herself rapidly exhausted, to the point where her entire body ached.

She was no longer surprised by anything that her pregnancy thrust at her. She was irritable in swings and the evening had been perfectly enjoyable up until the point where Clara had found herself tender in almost every region. She just wanted a long hot bath and to curl up in bed. She didn't feel terribly emotional, which was a bonus, merely agitated and restless. The drive home was difficult for her to take, as they sat in traffic, moving sporadically and Clara found herself with increasingly violent urges. She had long since abandoned any pretence of wearing heels, but her feet still felt like they were about to fall off, even though the amount of time standing compared to sitting was almost negligible. Her arse felt numb, like even if she stuck a thousand needles into it, none of them would affect her in the slightest. When the car eventually pulled up outside their little house, she slid out the passenger door and started hobbling towards the door when the Doctor swept her off her feet and into his arms, grunting slightly under her weight.

Clara made a small squeal when she was picked up, but said nothing otherwise. She had long since grown to appreciate the little things that the Doctor did for her, without even asking. She could fall asleep right there, in his arms. She wanted to. That could be it, just him and her, for all of eternity. She almost did in fact, nod off, as he opened the front door and placed her on the sofa. She must have been heavy, but the way he lowered her, she felt like she weighed nothing more than a feather. She was lying on the sofa now, near to sleep. He brushed her hair off her face and kissed her forehead. His touch was so gentle, she only just felt it. It was as if she was a china doll, so delicate that if he placed any pressure on her, she would shatter and be lost to him forever. He disappeared and Clara's heart felt like it was giving in. Then, she heard a thunderous crash of hot water and smiled to herself. He was running her a bath. She hadn't said a word, given him absolutely no inclination that a hot bath was the one thing in the world that she wanted, but he'd known. He always knew.

He'd returned now and his hands were on her feet. He slipped off her flats and pulled off her socks. Clara gave him a tired giggle as he kissed her big toe. His hands ran almost imperceptibly over her feet, almost tickling her with a deep, pushing feeling every so often as he massaged them. His hands worked magic, soothing the aches in the nooks and crannies where Clara didn't even realise she had aches. Or nooks. Or crannies. She moaned softly as the Doctor stroked her heel and a pleasant sense of relaxation washed over her. The gap between her big toe and her second toe was his plaything now and she groaned as he worked it. She wanted this to last forever, but sadly it couldn't, as she heard him swear loudly and take the stairs two at a time. She stretched forwards but couldn't reach her own feet. It wouldn't matter, she couldn't rub them the way that he could. Clara tried to sit up, but before she got the chance, she was being plucked off of her feet again and carried up the stairs. As they climbed, she had the scary thought that he'd lose his balance and topple over backwards, killing all three of them, but then they were stepping onto the landing and Clara's heart was beating again.

The Doctor was stripping her. It felt weird to think, but he was plucking the clothes off of her body without even lowering her from his arms. Clara wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say, such was his elegance and skill. She opened her eyes briefly to look at his and he gave her the slightest of smiles. It was barely a lip twitch but it reassured her and she felt completely relaxed as he unclipped her bra, slid off her knickers and then deposited her in the bath tub. He had done it so majestically, so very unDoctorishly, that Clara almost squealed in surprise that she hadn't been unceremoniously dumped into the sizzling water.

"Aren't you joining me?" she asked accusingly, to which the Doctor looked completely flustered. Nevertheless, it took him a little over five seconds to strip and climb in after her, the water sloshing everywhere and the tub groaning under the weight of the two and a half bodies. Clara felt wide awake now, with the Doctor practically on top of her and her skin burning. She felt like she was being cooked, but simultaneously, the pulsating, groaning pain that had penetrated every part of her body was releasing the tension all at once, so she felt as though a great weight was being lifted off her, being carried away by the steam that curled towards the ceiling.

The Doctor swore as he slipped slightly and drove an elbow into Clara's breast and she yelped, reaching up to slap him gently and splashing both of them. The Doctor coughed and his head momentarily disappeared below the water, before he popped back up, spluttering and looking like a drowned rat. Clara pulled his close and kissed his forehead. He shot her a look of pure content and they sloshed around for what seemed like forever, before Clara eventually realised that she was so tired, she was about to fall asleep there in the bath tub. She didn't say anything to the Doctor, but then she didn't have to. He clambered over her out of the tub, grabbing every towel he could see and trying to make himself as unlubricated as possible. Clara opened her mouth to tell him that was he was about to do was an absolutely terrible idea but she was too late. She reckoned it wouldn't have stopped him anyway. He stuck his hands into the bath and attempted to pluck her out. Sure enough, she slipped out of his arms, which had already buckled under the weight and he toppled, head first on top of her. Clara yelled in pain as his head collided with her stomach and then they were lying side by side in the bath, dazed and confused. Clara groaned and Tom kicked her to signal his pleasure.

"I know baby," she soothed, running a hand over her stomach to reassure him. "I know. Daddy's a moron. I'm working on him, I promise." The Doctor moaned beside her.

They decided to try again and this time, the Doctor didn't try to yank Clara out, so much as wait until she was on her feet and then steady her, wrapping her in towels. She shrugged him off and dried herself, determined not to let him do every single little thing for her. They crawled into bed and Clara found herself staring at the man she loved, captivated by his beauty. He was staring back and the way their eyes met, Clara wanted to cry. She wanted to cry because she couldn't believe how happy he had made her. This was everything she could ever have wanted.

"I wish my mum could see us now," she whispered and smiled through the tears that she couldn't fight back.

"I wish mine could too," he said suddenly and Clara's breath stopped in her throat. He never talked about his parents. Ever. He'd mentioned it a handful of times but the conversation never lasted long before he changed the subject awkwardly. It had always felt like a slip. But this wasn't a slip. It was deliberate.

"What was she like?" Clara asked quietly. The Doctor frowned and Clara realised that he was trying to remember.

"I can't remember much pre-orphanage," he admitted. "Most of what I can remember is…him." She didn't have to ask who he meant. The Master's suicide in prison a few years had been a relief to both of them, but he had been a part of the Doctor's past nevertheless. "My father was strict. I can remember that much. But my mother…she was kind." He swallowed and Clara took his hand in her own. "I remember once when I was five, I'd gashed up my knee really badly and she took me to one side. Rather than shunting me off with the maid like my dad would have done, she patched it up herself, kissed the band aid she'd put over it, looked me in the eyes and said: 'When you grow up, you'll be able to do this to your son. And I want you to tell him that it doesn't matter how many times you fall down, because there will always be someone there to patch you up.'" Clara found herself tearing up. "And I thought she'd lied to me Clara. I spent the next ten years running those words over in my head, thinking: 'Nobody's going to patch me up mum.' And it was my fault. I just kind of assumed that I didn't deserve anyone to patch me up. And then I met you. And you patched me up."

Clara threw her arms around him, holding him so tightly that she never wanted to let go. She couldn't help thinking that if she let go of him, even for a second, that he would disappear. Because there was no way that he could be real. Her Doctor. He was too good to be true, a dream, a wisp of smoke, preparing to disappear. She kissed his neck and she squeezed so tightly. She couldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever.

* * *

***And tomorrow: Amy runs out of milk, Dave drops a cup and the Doctor has a pint. Enjoy!***


	23. Chapter 23: Out of Milk

***Hey troops! We're on the home stretch now, only two more chapters after this one! Blimey it's gone so fast. I have about 500 more words to write for it and I hope to finish them tonight. Anyway, I promised you a cute pregnancy chapter but you're about to see that was a blatant lie. Enjoy! And as ever, please please let me know your thoughts. Anyway, thanks for everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited! TPD***

* * *

Dave had just got out of the shower and was brewing a cuppa, preparing for bed, when the phone rang for the first time. He sighed irritatedly and let it ring out, as he always did. London, Dave had decided, was not to his liking. There were far too many cars, far too many people and far too many arseholes calling him at all hours of the day. It was late, the sun had gone down, but here they were, calling again. London was a horribly stuffy and noisy city and Dave wanted nothing more to be out of it. Nevertheless, he wasn't here for himself. He was here for Clara. She was all that he had left in this world and she was starting a family. Dave owed it to her to be there for her. He had spent so much of his life not being there. When she was little, he had left so much of it to Ellie. Not because he didn't love or care for Clara, but because his wife had been so much better at handling their infant and then teenage daughter. Dave wasn't proud of that, but at least then Clara had been well looked after. What had happened next was inexcusable. He had been a terrible father after Ellie had died. She had needed him, more than she had ever needed him growing up and he had shunted her off to a therapist. He had thrown himself into another, loveless marriage, in desperate hopes to distract himself from what he had lost. And where had that gotten him? Further away from Clara. So now, he was going to make it right, by being the best grandfather he could be, and hopefully make up for some of the wrongs he had done to Clara.

The phone rang again, moments later. Dave perked up. People only rang twice when it was important, or Clara. He had told her that he was unlikely to pick up first time and she had rolled her eyes and told him she'd call twice. Dave crossed the room to the phone, sipping on his tea.

"Hello?" he answered cheerily. A voice down the other end spoke and then Dave dropped his tea, the mug falling to the floor with a deafening crash as it shattered. He hadn't even noticed. "I'm on my way."

* * *

Amelia Pond was whistling cheerily as she wrote. Amy loved writing for her fashion magazine, and it made her wonder why she'd ever given up writing in the first place. She was writing a piece about short skirts in the modern era and the freedom that it gave women, when she hit a snag. She was out of milk. Her tea cup was empty and she was out of milk and without her shot of amber goodness, she had absolutely no hope of finishing this article. Amy sighed, it looked as if she was going to have to go down to the shops. Amy considered taking her phone, but ended up leaving it on the side. She would only be gone a couple of minutes. It was a pleasant night, the stars were shining and the moon was out as Amy strolled towards the twenty-four hour Tesco on the corner. Rory was working the night shift, which meant that he wouldn't be back home until almost 8 in the morning, a brutal time as far as Amy was concerned but there you go. It was one of the sacrifices he was making to earn a little extra cash. Amy may have preferred her new writing job, but it didn't pay as well and that was a blow to their income. She bought the milk and flicked a look at her watch. 8 minutes. What could possibly go wrong in 8 minutes? It took her less than another 5 to watch home and when she got in, she could hear her phone ringing angrily, Rory's ringtone blaring and filling the house with its whines. It cut out before Amy could get to it and when she looked at it, she saw that she had five missed calls. Her heart skipped a beat and a moment later, it started ringing again.

"Rory?" she asked, panicked. "Is everything alright?...I'll be right there!"

She dropped the milk and ran.

* * *

Annabelle was just finishing up at Donna's. She had another ten minutes left in her shift and Donna was in an awfully cheerful mood, which was a relief. Annabelle refreshed the stock in preparation for the morning and washed off the coffee machine for what seemed like the millionth time. Donna chuckled as she approached and leant on the counter beside Annabelle. Annabelle shot Donna an uncomfortable look. Her boss was often in a good mood, but she was rarely actively nice to people, even Annabelle. Especially Annabelle at times. But today, she looked like she was about to go so far as to strike up a conversation with her subordinate.

"Hello, Annabelle!" Donna said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She wanted something. Annabelle had seen her pull the same move on men coming in a thousand times. It was more than slightly unnerving to see the same move being pulled on her. "I need a favour. I need you to tell Ten that I'm cancelling on the op-er-ahh tomorrow night." She said opera in three distinct syllables. It freaked Annabelle out. "I have a uh hot date, with Tony. From the Bishop's Den."

"I'll tell him," Annabelle smiled and Donna nodded and fist pumped slightly before realising Annabelle was watching her. "How did you get Mr Hottie Tony to ask you out?"

"Womanly wiles," Donna smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder again. Annabelle nodded and smiled falsely. Anything to keep her boss happy. It looked as if Ten was going to have to find someone else to take to the opera. Annabelle secretly hoped he'd invite her, she loved the opera. Donna had gone off to shout at someone, leaving Annabelle free to finish her shift in peace. She had just got out the door when her phone started ringing. Annabelle groaned, she had really been looking forward to a quiet evening. She decided just to ignore it. It was probably nothing important. But then it went off again and she decided that if it was important enough to call twice, then she might as well see what they wanted. She checked the caller ID and frowned before answering.

"What's up?" she asked, confused. "Oh shit…"

* * *

Rory was working the night shift. Rory hated working the night shift. It was polarised. It was always the same, especially on a Friday night. It could be packed to the rafters with drunk people, who were constantly scrambling to get treatment over each other, vomiting everywhere and being generally violent, coupled with multiple car crashes, six car pile ups, an idiot who impaled himself, gunshot victims and various muggings, or it would be silent. There would be maybe two patients all night. And it would go so notoriously slowly that Rory often found himself tempted to go out into the street and stab someone, just to give himself something to do. On the boring nights, he craved action. On nights like this one, where he could barely move without tripping over someone, and the doctors were stretched thin and the nurses thinner still, Rory prayed for a quiet night.

"We've got another one Rory!" Mylene shouted from the desk. "Ambulances bringing her in, ETA three minutes, you've got it with Dr Carter."

Rory groaned. It looked as if this night was just going to pile it all on. They had just sent three different emergencies up to surgery and Rory had just wanted a moment to grab a coffee before he waded back into the mess of drunks, stabbings and broken limbs. He had three minutes, he supposed, but by the time he'd poured his coffee and sat down, he could hear the shouting. They needed him then. Rory staggered to his feet, drinking his coffee as quickly as he could. He had long since stopped worrying about the burning sensation as fresh and boiling coffee singed his throat. He would need the caffeine too much. But as he stepped out of the lounge, he suddenly realised that he wouldn't have needed it to stay awake. He dropped the coffee cup. For a moment he was suspended there, in a moment of pure horror. He was dreaming, he had to be. This could not be real. And yet it was. People were shouting, but all the colour had drained from Rory's face and he was rooted to the spot. Someone was shouting his name, but he was transfixed on her face. He couldn't see anything but the pale white face staring at him, eyes shut and cannula up her nose. Rory wanted to cry and scream. This could not happen.

"Clara," he whispered.

* * *

Ten didn't understand why the Doctor didn't just sell all of his shares, set up shop and live out the rest of his life in relative comfort. Maybe it was all the money he could keep giving to charity, maybe it was that despite all the moaning and groaning he did, he actually liked his job. Or maybe, just maybe, Ten reckoned, it might be nights like this. They were at a fancy banquet, with plenty of alcohol to share. The Doctor never got to drink anymore, not with a very pregnant Clara back home, and he rarely got to see Vastra, Jenny or Jack nowadays. It was nice for him, as much as he loved Clara, just to have one evening without her. Ten liked seeing his cousin laughing, cheerful and drinking, not stressed. It was just a shame that Clara didn't have the same privilege, to be able to stop being seven and a half months pregnant, just for a night, so that she could out and laugh and drink and have fun. Ten wondered how much persuading the Doctor would have required to leave Clara home alone, even for a night. She was insistent that she could handle everything herself, to the point where Ten was convinced that the second she'd heard about the work banquet, she'd been practically throwing him out the door.

The Doctor was drinking and laughing and playing along, but Ten wasn't entirely sure that his mind wasn't completely based on Clara back home. Ten leaned across his cousin's shoulders, handing him another drink. The Doctor had only just started, so this was only his second drink, but he'd not been able to have even that much for a couple of months. He was chatting animatedly to Jack about, guess what, Clara and Ten smiled to himself as chinked glasses with the Doctor. The Doctor laughed and chinked back and then Jack invited Ten to join them, throwing a lazy arm around Ten and laughing at something the Doctor had said about Clara threatening to devour the poor postal boy who woke her up just before noon now that she was finally on maternity leave. The school insisted now that exams were over, insisting that she'd deserved it and that they'd see her in the Autumn. She was new to the concept of post arriving during the week.

Ten could see that the Doctor was somewhat tentative around his drink, as if he could see the potential damage that it could do. He was also nervously checking his phone every now and then. It was almost as if he was expecting something to go wrong. Ten rolled his eyes and nudged the Doctor, indicating for him to drink faster. The Doctor nodded and smiled, but didn't oblige, still sipping on his lager at a somewhat pedestrian pace. Ten sighed irritatedly and was about to tip the Doctor's pint manually, when the Doctor's phone started ringing. He picked it up to answer it instantly, but Ten snatched it off of him and answered it for him teasingly.

"Theeeeee Doctor can't come to the phone right now, I'm his delightful cousin Ten, how may I be of service?" Ten joked and the Doctor glared at him. He was expecting a playful response from Clara, but he didn't get one. The Doctor had clocked something was wrong, because Ten's face had fallen and his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach. He put the phone down. "Doctor, we have to go. Now."

* * *

Henry couldn't remember quite when he'd realised exactly how in love he was with Miss Oswald. At first he had been ashamed, wanting nothing more than to curl up into a ball. He felt sorry for himself for a while, and then he'd managed to get a girlfriend. But even then, all he could think about was his English teacher. Then, she got pregnant and he became single again. He had got her home address and for the last few weeks, had taken time out of his nights just to watch her walk around her house, all bloated and pregnant. He wanted nothing than to take care of her, than to make Miss Oswald happy. Was that too much to ask? He knew that he would never have a shot with his engaged, pregnant, happy teacher, with the perfect eyes and the lovely hair and the fantastic dress sense. But he also knew that he loved her and he wanted her to be happy, more than anything else in the world. And that was all that mattered.

He knew exactly how creepy he looked, sneaking around outside her house in the dead of night. He liked to think of himself as her guardian angel. Her fiancé, the annoying Doctor with the stupid bow tie, was out, probably at some fat cat dinner party, leaving his pregnant soon-to-be wife at home, the bastard. The whole thing made Henry's skin crawl. If he was with Miss Oswald, he would never ever leave her side. Could the Doctor say the same thing? Obviously not. People like him, people who didn't take women for granted…

Miss Oswald had left the house. It was late and it was dark. She shouldn't be wandering the streets, not alone. Henry kept to the shadows, but he decided to follow her. Her hair was up in a cute ponytail, her flowing dress reached her knees and she was wearing a jacket that was far too small for her due to pregnancy. She looked beautiful. Henry could almost hear her humming to herself, as he knew she would do as she walked briskly. He was across the road, safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't realise that he was following her. She was now heading down a side alley, which even Henry thought was dubious for a pregnant woman late at night. Then he heard it. The most blood-curdling scream he had ever heard in his entire life, piercing the silent black of the night, echoing in Henry's ears over and over again.

He was running now, pitching across the street, stumbling and almost losing his footing until he reached her. Miss Oswald was lying face down in the street and there was blood everywhere. Henry pulled out his phone to call 999 and then screamed.

* * *

Clara had run out of milk. But it was worth it. Because she had finally done it. After so many years, so many disasters and so many failed attempts, she had finally done it. She had baked her mum's soufflé. She had done it. She had been tempted to call the Doctor straight away and tell him, but the truth was, she didn't want to ruin his evening. She had insisted that he go out on his stupid night out thing, she didn't care, really. He had been cooped up in the house for over a month now, desperately trying to appease his heavily pregnant wife. He had been getting increasingly agitated and Clara had hated seeing him like that most of the time. Often, she would be a massive bitch to him but that was unavoidable, with the pregnancy hormones driving her insane. He only left the house to fulfil her random and increasingly erratic desires. So it was really rather ironic that all Clara wanted was a cup of tea. It felt as if Tom had fallen asleep and her cravings had died down, hopefully for the day. All she really wanted in the world was a nice, relaxing cup of tea and to sit and watch some crap TV for a couple of hours. There was no point in her trying to sleep before the Doctor got back. Her husband had finally, after days and days of her badgering, gone out with his friends. Ten, Vastra, Jenny and Jack would all be at the office party, with Strax left babysitting baby Gemma. They were at some super awesome work office party and when Jenny had mentioned it to Clara, she had insisted that the Doctor go.

And then, she'd finally managed it. And she wasn't even sure if it would hold long enough for the bastard to get back and taste it. But he didn't need to for Clara to know. The moment she'd tasted it, she'd known. She'd been able to taste heaven. But of course, that meant that Clara ran out of milk. She had known that it was a stupid idea. But she had really wanted that cup of tea. And that stupid cup of tea…what had it done? She was nearly eight months pregnant, she was in absolutely no position to leave the house in the dead of night and waddle off down the road. But, she convinced herself, it wasn't exactly a long walk and it would not take her very long. What was the worst that could happen?

Clara stepped out into the street, looking both ways before she crossed the street. She didn't know why she bothered, there was no traffic and no people about at this time of night. The alleyway she normally walked through wasn't a long back alley and during the day or before she'd got very pregnant, she wouldn't have even thought twice about it. Even now, she only thought about it for a moment before plunging into the dimly lit alley. 99 times out of 100 this was one of the safest areas of London. It was part of the reason that they had moved there, a huge part of the reason. But Clara wasn't safe. When the mugger stepped out of the shadows, she almost didn't know what to do. She screamed. He cursed and moved in towards her. The rest was a blur. Clara wouldn't remember feeling the knife going in. She felt it at the time. It was a red hot, searing pain, sending shockwaves throughout her entire body. All she thought, as she desperately fought off the black and red clouding her vision, was that she'd never get to teach her kids to make the perfect soufflé. The perfect soufflé would die with her…

And Clara's whole world went black, and she crashed to the pavement.


	24. Chapter 24:Devastation

***Hey troops! So yesterday's chapter was cruel and the cliffhanger that I left it on was even crueller. I've had so much great speculation from you guys, but the truth is...ah you'll find out. This was a brutal chapter to write in many ways and I kept getting interrupted. This is also the penultimate chapter and there is going to be no sequel. Make of that what you will. Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed and favourited this story and I'll be back soon with more mischief. I hope you like how I've done this chapter. TPD***

* * *

Clara had been stabbed. The words ricocheted around in the Doctor's mind over and over again as he and Ten sat in the back of the taxi. That was all Ten knew. She'd been stabbed and that there had been a lot of blood and she had been rushed straight into surgery. The Doctor suspected Ten knew more than he was telling the Doctor, because when Ten had asked what her chances were, he'd told the Doctor that they didn't know. And the Doctor knew that that was a lie. Ten knew and if it was bad enough that he didn't want to tell the Doctor, then it was very bad indeed. The taxi driver was going far too slowly for the Doctor's liking and Ten had to try and calm him down as he was shouting. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, they arrived at the hospital and the Doctor barrelled out of the taxi whilst Ten paid.

The Doctor hurtled into the hospital, looking left and right. He spotted Rory, Amy and Annabelle, who were stood in a small circle near the entrance. The Doctor threw himself into Amy's arms and started sobbing as Ten made his way over. Rory exchanged a look with Ten and the Doctor detached himself from Amy to stare at the nurse.

"How bad is it Rory?" he asked quietly. Rory bit his lip and the Doctor's heart plummeted.

"I don't know," he murmured. "The surgeon who took her up didn't sound confident and the OB specialist swore when she saw Clara. She's still in surgery now, but it won't be long before she's out." The way he said 'out' was optimistic, but the Doctor sensed that there was more. He knew that there was a strong possibility that Clara would lose the baby, but as hard as that would be, as long as she was alive, they could always try again. Facing the worst case scenario right now, the Doctor would take whatever he could get. "She's a fighter Doctor," Rory reminded him. "If anyone can survive this, it'll be Clara."

The Doctor nodded frantically and began pacing up and down anxiously. More than anxiously. He was barely holding it together. Rory disappeared to try and see what he could find out and a few minutes later, Dave arrived. The Doctor didn't want to speak to him or anyone, so he continued pacing in silence and let the others all huddle together. He felt an arm on his shoulder. It was Henry, one of Clara's children. He was the one who had found her, who had brought her in. He turned and the boy, well adult, he was 18 and as tall as the Doctor, threw a punch that sent the Doctor reeling. He staggered back and Ten and Dave ran over, along with security.

"It's okay!" the Doctor insisted, as Henry stared at him in hatred.

"This is all your fault!" Henry yelled and the Doctor felt each word stab him through the heart. "She was going to be your wife! And you weren't there for her! She was walking the streets, alone, at night and she got stabbed and where the hell were you? You were off, partying, drinking with your friends while your pregnant fiancée was bleeding out in an alleyway! How could you? This is all on your head!"

A couple of the security guards ushered him away gently, but the words stung more than the punch. The Doctor could see Ten coming towards him and he broke down. It was all his fault. Clara was going to die, because of him. The one promise he had made, to always protect her and their child and he had broken it. It was all down to him. Ten was moving to put his arms around the Doctor, but the Doctor pushed him off. He didn't want sympathy. He just wanted Clara to be okay.

"This isn't your fault," Ten was saying, but the Doctor shook his head. Who else's fault could it possibly be? The Doctor had killed almost everyone he'd ever cared about and Clara was just going to be the latest in a long line of catastrophes. "Look at me!" Ten snapped and the Doctor did so. "John," Ten whispered, using his cousin's real name for the first time in the Doctor's memory. "There was nothing you could have done. These things happen sometimes. Life just does shit things. The man in that alleyway, he is responsible for this. You left her alone for a matter of hours. It wouldn't have mattered if she was pregnant or not. If she wasn't pregnant, she would have still gone down that alleyway and what happened would have happened anyway. Going out with your friends and having a drink does not make you a bad person and Clara will not blame you."

"Clara will blame herself," the Doctor replied. "And she shouldn't." They were both talking as if Clara was going to make it. It was the only way to talk. The Doctor wasn't willing to say out loud the possibility that she wouldn't wake up. Of course she would wake up, she was Clara. His Clara. The Doctor breathed in and out and then collapsed onto Ten. He couldn't do this without her. He needed her.

It was almost an hour before Rory returned, his face pale. The Doctor broke free of everyone the second he saw Rory and crashed over, stumbling to a halt in front of Rory. Rory looked as though he was barely holding it together.

"Well," Rory said, as Annabelle, Amy, Dave and Ten all joined the Doctor in staring at him. "Good news, bad news really. She's alive." The Doctor let out a sigh of relief, but he didn't let himself be happy yet.

"The baby?" the Doctor said quietly, closing his eyes and preparing for the worst. Rory shook his head, before realising that the Doctor couldn't see it. But the Doctor could tell from the gasps around him exactly what had happened.

"It's um…it's worse than that," Rory confessed and the Doctor's eyes snapped open. Rory was crying. "Doctor, I am so sorry."

"What?" he whispered. "Rory what is it tell me!"

"Her ovaries and uterus were badly damaged. They had to um…remove them. They had to give her a hysterectomy. Doctor, Clara didn't just lose the baby. She lost the ability to have a child. You two can never ever have children."

The Doctor fell to his knees and let out a guttural howl. He didn't need to look up at the others to see the looks of pity and shock. He had no time for pity or for shock. All he could think about was Clara. How devastated she'd be. Their perfect little family would never be a reality. Everything that they spent the last year dreaming of. The pale blue bedroom, the crib, their perfect little house. It would always remain empty. He could never have children. The Doctor had always wanted children. He knew that he had wanted children with Clara for years. And he knew that she wanted it more than anything too. How could he possibly tell her? How could he let anyone tell her? He would never be a father. They could always adopt but with no ovaries, Clara could never be a mother. They had had this discussion while they were trying. She had never wanted to bring up someone else's child. She would never feel it was hers.

As rationally as the Doctor was managing to think, he knew that it was his only option. He tried to stop his mind clouding, because he knew that if he gave into anger and pain, he would never to pull himself back from it. And Clara needed him. More than ever. Rory had been talking quietly to the others, but everyone had been staring at the Doctor. He looked up at them. There they were, the faces of shock and pity. Dave would never be a grandfather, Amy and Annabelle wouldn't be godmothers, at least not to the Doctor's child, likewise Ten and Rory wouldn't be godfathers. But none of them knew. They were all staring at him, with wistful eyes. They were all sorry. But it wasn't them. And part of them, whether they knew it or not, was glad that it wasn't them. This was the Doctor and Clara's cross to bear. None of theirs.

"Take me to Clara," the Doctor said, his voice barely above a whisper and trembling. "I said take me to Clara!" This time it was a shout. Rory helped him to his feet. The Doctor shrugged him off and gestured for Rory to show him the way. Rory started walking and the Doctor turned and nodded to everyone else, to indicate that he would handle this alone. Rory was silent, he didn't want to antagonise the vulnerable Doctor further. When they reached the room, the Doctor poked his head inside. Clara was lying on the bed asleep, or rather unconsciousness. Rory took a quick look at the chart and told the Doctor that she'd been sedated and it would be about six hours until she woke up. When he suggested that the Doctor go home and get some sleep, as it was almost midnight, the Doctor turned to Rory and growled that he wasn't leaving Clara's side.

The next six hours were the longest six hours of the Doctor's life. Rory had gone back to work, but popped in occasionally, the Doctor had sent Annabelle, Amy and Ten home and had given Dave his house keys to go and fetch Clara's things, whilst reiterating that he wasn't moving from the spot by Clara's bedside the entire time. No matter how tired the Doctor got, he never considered sleeping. He had too much running through his mind in any case as he pondered how on earth he could tell the woman he loved that they could never have kids. It was something he had never imagined he would have to do and it was the toughest task he had undertaken in his entire life.

Clara eventually stirred at about 6am and the Doctor stared into her eyes as they fluttered open. She was a mask of confusion and she tried to sit up, her eyes wide open in horror. The Doctor tried to soothe her, gently removing her hair from her eyes and kissing the top of her head as he held her. Because of the sedation medicine, it took Clara a minute or so before she was able to speak and even then it came out slowly and croakily. The Doctor couldn't let her see his face, so he buried it into her head, knowing that if she caught his eye, then that would be it. They would both be gone.

"Tom?"

She sounded so hopeful, and yet so desperate, that the Doctor couldn't bear to tell her. He just started sobbing. He sobbed and he knew he was being weak and as he finally pulled back to look at Clara's face, it broke him. Her eyes were so focused and it was the way her mouth fell, inch by inch, the way her eyes slowly widened and her eyebrows tightened. The tiny shake of the head and the way she stiffened. Over the course of a second, all of her hope evaporated and then she wailed. It was the single most horrific sound that the Doctor had heard in his entire life. He put on the bravest face he could and he held her as she let out the most inhuman shrieking, the noise of a woman who had lost everything. The Doctor was shaking but he had to stay strong for both of them. He had to do this now. He couldn't let her think that there was any hope, or he would never be able to tell her. She would break all over again.

"Clara," he said, his voice cracked. "There's more. We can't…I mean you can't…you can't have children. We…can't have children."

He had never hated himself more. Even when he had been stood on a bridge, about to throw himself off, the Doctor had never hated himself more than the moment where he stared into Clara Oswald's eyes and told her that she could never have his children. Because her face had already dissolved into solid pain before he said those words. But as each one struck her, she seemed to die a little more inside, her distorted face suddenly relaxing in a mask of pure nothing. The Doctor pulled Clara in closer as she cried. But this time, instead of wailing, her tears were silent.

* * *

It was several days before Clara was allowed to go home. She hadn't said more than two words to anyone in that time, she'd merely cried silently over and over again. She had a jagged scar on her belly but otherwise there were no physical marks on her. All of the damage was to her emotionally. And the damage was there. They offered her counselling but as ever, she reminded them that the last therapist she'd had had made her swear off the profession. The Doctor tried to talk her around but he knew in his heart of hearts that there was only one person she needed to talk to. Or even wanted to talk to.

The next few weeks were a nightmare. Clara was visited by Dave, Annabelle, the Ponds and she refused to say a word to any of them. She just lay in bed all day, silent and unmoving, like a statue. She would occasionally speak to the Doctor, who was just as shell-shocked as she was and giving her time. When she spoke to him, it was usually trivial, but she never wasted a word. The Doctor rarely left her side, throwing himself into everything that needed to be done. He had taken apart the baby's old room and thrown out everything baby related before she got home, he wouldn't put her through that. But no matter what the Doctor did, Clara wouldn't say a word to him about what had happened. She couldn't. It was as if there was a mental block. The Doctor himself was dealing with it the only way he knew how, focusing on Clara. If he could see Clara smile again, then he knew that everything would be okay. But he couldn't get Clara to smile. He suspected she had forgotten how. Then, everything changed.

The Doctor had gone food shopping. Clara barely ate unless he forced her, but whenever he brought her meals in bed, she at least felt obligated to eat enough to appease him, which meant that she wasn't losing too much weight. Nevertheless, her baby weight was falling off of her and it wasn't healthy. The Doctor suspected it was part of her tactic to forget about children completely, pretend that she had never wanted one anyway. When he got back, he went straight up to the bedroom to make sure Clara was okay. Only she wasn't in the bedroom. He panicked, unsure where she could be and what to do. He hurtled out of the bedroom and shouted her name.

"I'm in here."

He followed the sound of her voice to Tom's bedroom. What would have been Tom's bedroom, the Doctor scolded himself. Clara was sat cross-legged on the floor in the middle of the room, holding a small blue item of clothing. The Doctor wanted to swear, he must have missed it when cleaning out the house. He sat beside Clara and they sat in silence for a moment.

"We're never going to be parents," Clara said softly.

"No," the Doctor replied. "We're not."

"I keep on feeling like I'm asleep. And that when I wake up, it will all have been a dream and I'll still have Tom kicking away at me and you'll be laughing at my silliness and everything will be alright. But then when I brush my hand against something or when I hear your voice, I'm reminded that this is real. This is my life now. And there's nothing that I can do to change it. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can never give you children."

"Don't say it like that," the Doctor soothed her. "Don't make it sound like it's down to you. It's nobody's fault. It's a very bad thing that happened and let's face it, we both blame ourselves. But we can do this, you and I."

"If I didn't know you as well as I do," Clara sniffed. "I would ask if you were going to leave me. I'd ask if you weren't better off with someone who can give you children, because you wanted them as much as I did, maybe more. I don't deserve you…"

"Clara stop…"

"No!" she snapped but her voice was calm. "No I don't. I've spent the last few weeks lying in bed, moping, refusing to talk to anyone about anything. And you? You've carried on. This has hurt you as much as it has hurt you, but you've buried that down inside and dealt with it because I needed you to. When push came to shove, you were the one who could cope, not me. And I don't deserve a man who loves me enough to do all of this for me. So get out."

"What?" the Doctor was confused.

"I'm only going to say this once. Get out. Leave. Never come back. Because you deserve someone who can make you happy, who can give you children! And you'll never leave of your own accord because you're too selfless. You'd never walk out on me, so I'm telling you, you have to, or I'm going to have to walk out on you. Because you deserve everything in the world and I can't do that for you. Please, just go!"

"Clara Oswald," he said gently, pulling her into a hug despite the fact that she punched him in the chest, trying hard to throw him off and screaming for him to leave. "I am never ever going to leave you. You are all I want in this world. Whatever happens, whatever we have to face, we can face it together."

"You want to be a father more than anything," she sobbed. "So go out there and be one."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Clara, I would give up anything to be with you. I will give up fatherhood, I would quit my job, I would do anything in the world that you asked me to do. But not this. Because that wouldn't make either of us happy. The only way in the world that either of us can ever be happy again after this is if we go through it together. And no matter how hard this is on you. No matter how much you scream and cry and no matter how upset you get, I am here for you. I couldn't be there for you when you lost your mother. I wasn't there for you when you lost Tom. But damn it Clara. I am here now. And whatever it takes, I am never leaving your side again. It was never about having children Clara, it was about having kids with you. And kids, they're wonderful. But they mean nothing to me unless they are produced with you."

"That's not true, you know as well as I do that any child you have, you'd love with all your heart."

"But you mean more than that. Clara Oswald, I gave you my heart a long time ago and I am not going to take it back."

She started crying again. He held her tightly and realised that he was crying as well. They were sat in an empty bedroom that would never be filled, for a child that they could never have. Clara sobbed and sobbed and the Doctor held her. Because he had to. Because if he let go, even for a second, he would never forgive himself.

"Why me?" Clara asked, a natural question in the Doctor's eyes. "What did I do to deserve this? Everything I touch dies Doctor. It's not fair. It's NOT FAIR!" she screamed at the top of her lungs and lashed out, shoving him off and standing. She screamed and the Doctor grabbed her and held her as she pounded her fists into his chest, crying and shrieking and flailing. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't make everything alright. He wanted to scream too. All he wanted was to yell and shout and cry.

"I'm sorry Clara," he whispered. "I am so sorry."


	25. Chapter 25: One Happy Day

***Hello everyone! Here we are on the last page, once again. I have literally just finished this, because I'd been putting off writing the last 300 words or so. This last chapter felt almost impossible to write, as I wanted to strike a balance between optimism and realistic pessimism in the light of the last chapter. Anyway, smut warning on this chapter, plenty of fluff and all sorts. I hope I got this last chapter right. Because of the way I always planned to end this story with a level of bittersweet ambiguity, there will be no sequel. Partially because I like the way it ended but mainly because rule 1 of a writer is to never write a story that you don't feel inspired or motivated to write. And I feel as though I have told every story I want to tell in this universe.**

**For those of you interested in keeping up to date with my work, I have an Oswin Oswald superprompt AU chapter 4 is up tomorrow, and I also have another handful of multi-chapter superprompts coming up, including a multi-Doctor, multi-Companion spectacular. I'm also going to be posting a new AU sometime in late March, called The Year of the Doctor and set entirely from Clara's perspective. I hope you guys like this chapter and what comes next and as ever, thank you so much to everyone who has helped me along the way. Special thanks to xandrota for all your amazing support, to my two best friends who won't see this but were so so supportive along the way, and to every single one of you who has read, reviewed, followed and favourite along the way. I couldn't have got here without you. Follow me on tumblr at whovianmachine for more updates and prompts. I'll be back TPD***

* * *

"Can we get married?"

The question struck the Doctor as an odd one. Clara had had her good days and her bad days since the incident. For the first few weeks or so, it had been almost all bad days. By mid-July, it was about fifty-fifty. Now that August had rolled around, it was more good than bad. The Doctor could usually tell within five seconds of Clara getting up whether it was going to be a good day or a bad day. Today was going to be a good day, even before this sudden outburst over pancakes.

"We are getting married," the Doctor teased, replicating the format of the previous conversation, a few months earlier. "Remember."

"I meant, can we get married today?"

The Doctor choked on his pancake. He couldn't breathe for about five seconds as Clara leapt out of her seat and slammed her fists against his back. He started breathing again and wretched as he regained control of his lungs.

"It was just a suggestion," Clara cried. "If I'd known you'd rather die on me…"

"You want to get married today?"

"Yeah," Clara twisted her engagement ring nervously, as she always did when she was mulling something over. "I was thinking we round up Annabelle, Ten, my dad and the Ponds, get to the nearest registry office, see if they have a free slot, get married, catch a flight and we can be in the Maldives by this time tomorrow. What do you think?"

The Doctor didn't reply, he'd already got out his phone and was calling Ten. Clara giggled and squealed as the Doctor told his cousin to meet them at the registry office in an hour and Clara was already calling her father.

"I'll call the Ponds and then Jack, get Annabelle when you're done!" the Doctor instructed. Clara nodded as she started talking to her father. The whole process took about ten minutes and then Clara pulled the Doctor into a huge hug. All of her baby weight was gone but she'd started eating again properly, she'd had her hair and nails done a couple of days earlier and she was feeling back to her usual perky self. The Doctor was glad to see it. Clara had always been beautiful to him, but he wanted her to feel beautiful on their wedding day. She raced upstairs and the Doctor followed. They showered quickly and spent over half an hour getting ready. The Doctor went with his fanciest suit and matching black bow tie. Clara wore a stunning white dress that reached her knees and clung to her body. She did her makeup, flecking on eyeliner as the Doctor ran his electric razor over his head so it was at the perfect length that Clara liked it. They stopped getting ready for a moment to grin at each other and then Clara curled her hair whilst the Doctor busied himself with shaving his face and aftershave. Ten called and informed them that they had a slot booked for in twenty minutes time and they were very lucky that they could be fitted in. The Doctor laughed out loud and Ten confirmed that the others were all there and waiting for them. The Doctor doubled checked that he had the wedding rings that he had had specially fitted months ago and they were in the car driving.

"Why are we stopping?" Clara shouted as he pulled up alongside a small shop. He hopped out and re-emerged a few moments later with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He handed them to Clara, kissed her on the cheek and they were back in the car, driving again. They parked outside the registry office with five minutes to spare and hustled in, to see everyone waiting for them, dressed up nicely as they'd hoped. Annabelle rushed over as the Doctor strode over to Ten and Jack.

"I hope you know what you're doing," Ten informed the Doctor as he straightened his cousin's bow tie. "She's been all over the place emotionally ever since the stabbing, you know she could wake up in the morning and lose her shit on your honeymoon?"

"Look, Clara is still coming to terms with the idea of a life without children," the Doctor sighed. "And I want to do everything I can to make her happy. And I want to marry Clara Oswald more than anything in the entire world. So I'm marrying her. Today. And then we're going to have the rest of our lives to deal with what comes next."

"Okay," Ten laughed. "I'm convinced. Let's get you two love birds married!"

The Doctor laughed and then he caught Clara's eyes. They had five minutes, they might as well make the most of them. They quickly excused themselves, saying that they needed the loo before the wedding and then they checked that nobody was looking before locking themselves in the disabled toilet. The Doctor remembered, a very long time ago, at Dave's wedding to Mandy, that the idea of sneaking off to have sex when they were supposed to be getting married had seemed counter-productive. Yet, here they were. Clara kissed him gently and he returned it, before slipping in his tongue and suddenly they were alive. They hadn't had much sex since the incident, but the Doctor knew that that wouldn't matter as soon as they found their rhythm.

Clara was already discarding his jacket and her hands were all over his chest, slipping under his shirt and raking up and down his rib cage. The Doctor gasped and deepened the kiss, his own hands practically ripping Clara's dress off of her. When it crashed to the floor, his trousers followed and Clara's hands were down his pants in an instant, as the Doctor removed her bra. He started trailing kisses down her neck and she moaned as he reached her collarbone and kept going lower. He cupped her breast and chewed delicately on her nipple as Clara tugged away. Her knickers and his boxers were kicked away and then he pressed himself into her.

"Sorry for the rush," he groaned as he lowered her gently to the floor and climbed on top. "But we are supposed to be getting married right now!"

Clara didn't get a chance to reply, as her world become splintered by pleasure.

Clara had never felt more scandalous. They each had half a dozen missed calls as they dressed quickly and left the toilet. She hoped her makeup hadn't run too much and her hair was still under control, but she doubted it. She nervously flattened down her dress and then straightened the Doctor's bow tie. He blushed and then they headed back to join the others. They were more than a little bit late.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Annabelle snarled. "You couldn't wait ten minutes until you were married?"

Clara shrugged meekly and Annabelle grabbed her hand, dragging her best friend along behind her. The Doctor was right behind her and had earned an eye roll off Ten and a chuckle of Jack. Amy straightened out his tux and kissed his cheek as Rory gave Clara a quick final check. She took a deep breath. Rory grinned at her and she smiled.

"Nervous?" Rory asked. Clara nodded once. She wasn't nervous for this. She wasn't nervous for the ceremony. She was nervous for what followed. The rest of their lives. She still couldn't have kids and one happy day wouldn't change that. What if the Doctor changed his mind about her? She snapped out of such thoughts. They were useless to her. The Doctor was never going to turn his back on her and that was a fact. But her? What if she did something stupid? Clara mentally punched herself. She would probably spend their wedding night crying, but it made no difference, they would be married and the Doctor knew how she felt. She had spent much of the last few months crying. Sometimes, her hands would find the scar on her belly, the scar that marked where Tom had been. And then she would feel a wave of emptiness hit her, as if her entire world was collapsing in on itself, leaving nothing left. But those were all problems for tomorrow. She promised herself one happy day.

"I was absolutely petrified on my wedding day," Rory told her, as if she'd needed reminding. She had been the one holding the sick bag. "But once I got through it, I felt a lot better. Every marriage has its ups and downs Clara, you and the Doctor are the strongest couple I know."

"But will that be enough?" she whispered. "If I can't give him kids?"

"That doesn't matter to him Oswin," Rory insisted with a smile. "All that matters is you."

Clara took a deep breath and hugged Rory. Rory was a good hugger, Clara had decided, but he wasn't the Doctor. Nobody was the Doctor. Clara was getting married. She thought back to when she had first met the Doctor, her face buried in a map and he had elbowed her in the stomach. It had all been a rather silly affair. She remembered crying in her shower and then knocking on his door and telling him that she needed a friend. He had always been there for her, whatever had happened. He had nearly murdered Jessie for trying to rape her, he had got her through the summer of hell after Tom's death. He had opened up to her in ways that nobody else had, ever could have.

"Are you ready yet?" snapped the registrar. Clara nodded meekly. "Right then, I have been informed you brought your own vows, now is the time to read them."

"Clara," the Doctor started and she faced him, staring him in the eye. "My Clara. Ever since I met you, you have been a mystery to me. I have spent over a third of my life trying to understand the enigma that is Clara Oswald and I fear I may never succeed. Because I cannot, for the life of me fathom, how a girl so beautiful, so smart and so funny, could ever end up with a foolish man like me. The moment I met you, I thought you were beautiful and it was a privilege to be by your side as you realised it yourself. Clara, I have loved you for so long, I don't remember a time where I didn't love you. When we met, I was nothing. I was not a person, I was just a Doctor. A mad scientist with no interest in people. And you made me so much more than that. You made me who I am today. Without you Clara Oswald, there is no doubt in my mind that I would never have made it out of university alive. And I will spend every minute of every day, for the rest of our lives, repaying you. Giving you the love and cherishment that you deserve. Because you are the single greatest person that I have met in my entire life and I will never, ever let you go."

"Doctor," Clara replied, unable to stop herself blushing and smiling, tears falling now and ruining what little makeup had survived the sex. "I thought that I knew how to beat the world. I thought I knew everything there was to know about going through the motions. But I didn't. I was rubbish at it and the world broke me down. And if I hadn't met you, I doubt I would have had the strength to pick myself up again. Because you have been there for me, every step of the way. And the time that I have spent with you has been by far the best of my life. If I had a pound for every moment when I felt like crying and you made me smile, for every time that you made me laugh when I was angry, for every time that you made me feel like the luckiest girl who ever lived, then I would be the richest as well as the luckiest. You are the perfect boyfriend, the perfect fiancé, the perfect husband. And I know that we have some tough times ahead. And I know that our lives can never be the way that we always pictured them. But as far as I'm concerned, any life with you is one that is worth suffering for."

The Doctor was crying and Clara was crying. She fell forwards into his arms and he gave her a hug. But this was unlike any hug he had ever given her. She had thought that nothing could best the Doctor hug. She had been wrong. Their lips locked and the registrar was saying things but Clara's world only consisted of the Doctor. They only had to sign a piece of paper and they were married. It was that simple. She scribbled her name, he scribbled his and then that was it. They were Mr and Mrs Doctor. There was no other name he needed, in Clara's mind.

They filed out of the office and the newlyweds said thanks to everyone for being there. It was too early to go for celebratory drinks, but they promised to have a proper meal and drink with their friends when they got back from the Maldives. Then, they were driving home and the Doctor carried a heavily giggling Clara over the threshold, back into their house. He stumbled and they toppled onto the sofa, laughing so hard that they could barely breathe.

"I love you, Mr Oswald," Clara informed him, planting a light kiss on his lips and curling up into his arms. She never wanted to leave his arms again, as she tested out the name.

"I love you, Mrs Oswald," the Doctor replied, wrapping himself around her. "That sounds weird to say…Mrs Oswald. But I love you. To the ends of the earth and back."

The Doctor held Clara like she was a piece of delicate china, yet simultaneously the cuddliest teddy bear in the universe. It was gentle yet fierce and so completely him. She cuddled him back and she often wondered how effective her own hugging technique was. It couldn't possibly match his and yet he never complained. She wasn't sure what was next for them, but wherever they ended up, at least they were together.

The Doctor googled flights to the Maldives and they had eight hours to kill before their honeymoon. In the end, they returned to the film that they always turned to during big, life changing moments, Finding Nemo. They had watched it so many times together, that they knew it off by heart, but it didn't matter. They both loved it so much and it always brought them together, even when they didn't think that they could get any closer. After the film, they started to pack and the Doctor shot Clara a seductive look as she packed her bikini. She rolled her eyes and crossed the room to kiss him.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently and she nodded, despite herself. "Clara, are you absolutely sure you want to do this? I mean, if you don't want to go…"

"Doctor," Clara silenced him. "We might never be able to get out of the shadow. We might spend the rest of our lives grappling with this. But as long as you are by my side, then there is hope. And hope is all we have. Hope of happiness. I can't stand by and watch my life slip away anymore. I love you and we're married. So let's go on our damned honeymoon."

The Doctor and Clara collapsed back into their house after the longest, most fun week of their lives. Clara's skin was burnt brown and her hair was streaked blonde by the sun. The Doctor was red as a tomato and he had had way too much to drink. Clara had abstained. As a general rule, she ignored alcohol during times of emotional turmoil, as she had learned during university that it was a bad combination for her. Plus, she'd been without booze for nine months because of the baby. She was sure she could last another month or so, until she was back on her feet.

The last week or so had taken her away from it all. But now that she was home again, it all came crashing back. Her little family with the Doctor, the family that she had never dreamed to hope would become real, but that she had finally believed in, clung to until it almost intoxicated her, was never going to happen. She wanted to cry all over again, as she always did when she thought about it, but she refrained. She didn't know much anymore. But she knew the Doctor. Her husband was watching her and as he saw her face shift, he reached out, taking her hand and brushing her fringe off of her face. He was there for her.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling her close. "You're going to be okay."

Clara's life had been turned upside down. It would never be the life that she wanted, not anymore. But, she supposed, this was the life that she had. And a life with the Doctor was not to be sniffed at, was not to be a consolation prize. They might never be able to have kids but, as much as they wanted them, they had something more important. They had each other. And whilst the wounds would maybe never heal, at least they could share in each other's pain. They were healing together. Step by step. Day by day. Maybe things would never be perfect and maybe their lives were just determined to trip them up. But Clara had no intention of going through it alone. And perhaps, if they were lucky, they could end up being happy again, somewhere along the line.

"I know," Clara whispered. "I know."


End file.
